


The Blind Girl Shall Lead Them

by KarToon12



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Developing Friendships, Hurt/Comfort, Major Original Character(s), Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-15
Updated: 2017-05-31
Packaged: 2018-11-01 00:04:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 71,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10910193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KarToon12/pseuds/KarToon12
Summary: (Takes place during G1, but with a modern update.) The blind musician, Kayla Matthews, is back in a series of misadventures with the Autobots as she tries to find her place among the team.  (Sequel to "Guitar Hero.")





	1. Behind the Tinted Glass

**Author's Note:**

> So I've finally gotten around to uploading all my old fan fics to this site. Just letting you all know that this was written AGES ago, and my writing style has changed a bit since then, so check out my later fan fics as well to see how I've improved. Oh, and one IMPORTANT THING: This is the G1 version of the show, but it takes place in contemporary times, so even though it's around the second season of the show, it's 2008, not 1984, okay? (Yes, 2008 was when this was written--shows how old it is. XD )
> 
> This is also a sequel to my first Transformers story, "Guitar Hero", so you'll have to read that one first to understand this one.

“Just tighten the turn; spin, and nitro!” came the yell of an ecstatic, yellow mechanoid.  The word “winner” flashed across the giant television screen and the robot proceeded to leap off the couch and perform a few disco moves reminiscent of Saturday Night Fever.

Seated next to him, his red twin took advantage of his brother’s happy dance and snatched the controller that was flung into the air during the celebration, “Ok Sunny, you win.  Now it’s my turn.”

Instantly, the dancing stopped, and the yellow robot swiveled to face his sibling; anger and annoyance plastered on his face, “Come on Sides, no fair!  I wasn’t done!”

But the aforementioned twin was already furiously tapping the controller; blue optics locked on the screen.  Despite holding more interest in the game, his mouth turned up in a teasing smirk, “Sorry Mr. Happy; finders keepers.”

That did it.  Without hesitation, the yellow robot grabbed the cord leading from the controller to the game console and yanked it hard.   But he hadn’t counted on his brother’s lightning reflexes, and how quick he was to get a much more firm grip on the controller already in his grasp.  Grunts turned to shouts, and from shouts to pulls, and soon enough, the two mechs were engaged in a tug of war match.

Boredom never settled well on the Ark; the gargantuan space cruiser that was currently nestled in a dormant volcano in Oregon’s hot desert.  With this spacecraft, came its passengers known around the world as the Transformers; a race of giant, sentient robots from the planet Cybertron.  They all had the uncanny ability to transform into vehicles and planes; hence the name, but with sentience came good and evil.  On the side of peace and justice were the Autobots; on the side of destruction and evil were the Decepticons.   For millions of years they battled each other, until fate brought their war to Earth.  Now, with the Earth’s governments aiding them, the Autobots have sworn to protect our planet and its inhabitants from the ruthless Decepticons.

In all respects, that’s the short version; these days, everyone knows the story; it’s old news; it doesn’t bear repeating.  So, back to the present tussle; boredom- it never settled well on the Ark.  The two Lamborghini twins known as Sideswipe and Sunstreaker attempted to relieve themselves of said boredom by playing some videogames their human friend, Spike, had introduced them to not long after meeting them.  But, like most siblings, they had a problem with the word, “sharing”, leading to the quarrel they were currently engaged in.  Sides had Sunny in a head lock and pulled him back, sending the two brothers careening into the Autobot-sized couch.  The controller had long since been tossed aside and apparently forgotten as the yellow mech flipped around and pinned his red twin down; squishing him into the cushions and giving him, what the humans called, a noogie.

Unfortunately, the couch wasn’t the only thing not spared the WCW match.  Reclining on the giant armrest, a young girl; 17 roughly, with long, fiery red hair, was trying to read her book in peace.  With the piece of literature resting against her bent legs, she lightly ran an index finger across the dot-coded print; attempting to block out the increasing tussle.  She was halfway through the page, when another body slam shook the enormous piece of furniture, causing her to lose her place; again.  Pale, blue eyes darted around, looking at everything and nothing at the same time, and she stiffened a groan.  That was five interruptions, she counted.  Now, normally, if it was anyone else, she would’ve been telling the person off by shake number two, but these were the Autobots; the people who risked life and limb to save Earth on a daily basis.  Even heroes needed some R and R.  So instead, she took a deep breath to compose herself; found where she left off, and continued to read.  

However, her annoyment clearly expressed itself on her face, and thankfully, it didn’t go unnoticed.  The aforementioned human, known as Spike, was sprawled out on the couch as well, and stole a glance at his friend.  He didn’t need to think twice about the young woman’s facial features, and quickly turned to address the twins, “Hey guys!  Can you keep it down?  Some of us are trying to concentrate!”

But the boy’s shouts went unheard.  The brothers were too engrossed in their “battle” to notice.  Without missing a beat, the girl cast a wry smile, “Houston, the Eagle has not landed.”  Spike gave a laugh and she continued, “Nice try, though.”

Turning back around, the boy caressed her hand, and she took his, letting him hoist her to her feet.  “Sorry, Kayla”, he apologized, “Why don’t I take you to Jazz’s quarters?  It should definitely be quieter there.”

A flash of uneasiness ran through her, “Well…I don’t know.  Last I heard, he had some reports to fill out; I don’t wanna’ bother him.  That’s why I came in here to read.”

But Spike was already pulling her off the couch; making her jump down with him, “Believe me, with you two’s friendship status and a quick explanation, he won’t mind one bit.”

Kayla couldn’t help but giggle, “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”  Setting her Braille book aside, the teen pulled out a length of pipe wedged in one of her belt loops.  With just a push of a button, a stark white cane shot out of the metal stub, and she let the boy lead her to her best friend’s quarters.

Oh yes; one thing that was neglected to be mentioned; the girl one has just read about is a bit different than the rest of the colorful cast of characters living aboard this vessel.  This young woman, is blind.  But if one knows of the Transformers, then he or she should know by now that in this world, there’s more than meets the eye.

Now, how did a race of sentient robots come to enjoy the company of said teen?  Now there’s an interesting story.  It was no less than a week ago that the red head was casually walking down the street when a Decepticon decided to use her as a hostage for a quick escape, but the Autobot saboteur put an end to that.  The next day, the ‘Bot’s meager day off turned into one of excitement when he and the human crossed paths again; both to learn that they had a passion for music as much as the other.  But the ‘Cons were swift in discovering this as well, and exploiting the Porsche’s undeniable fondness for the girl, they kidnapped her in an attempt to gain a new piece of Autobot weaponry.  But the evil mechs hadn’t counted on Kayla’s special talent.  Skilled in guitar, the teen was able to play her friends a secret message that uncovered a hidden trap set by the Decepticon leader, Megatron.  Even more so, when said weapon went haywire, the girl bravely entered the battlefield; touch and sound her only guide, to retrieve the device.  Needless to say, she succeeded, and in doing so, turned the tables on the ‘Cons’ dastardly plan.  As such, the Autobot leader; Optimus Prime himself, gave her the privilege of being allowed to visit the ‘Bots anytime she wanted, which made Jazz all the happier.

Speaking of the saboteur, Spike and Kayla arrived at the doors of the mech’s private quarters in no time at all.  The boy couldn’t stay, however; said something about helping his father in med bay.  The girl thanked him for being her guide, and with that, she listened to his receding footsteps as he swaggered off down the orange corridor.  Although, she made a mental note to get the place memorized A.S.A.P.  If she was going to be visiting frequently, she’d have to get around herself; she hated being a bother to anyone, and it was embarrassing enough to have to hold someone’s hand to go somewhere.  Using her cane, she rasped the large, metal doors; the echo traveling up the walls and through the floor.  A moment later, a Southern/Cajun voice was heard within, “C’mon in, man!”

Stepping forward, Kayla made her way inside, and the doors opened and closed behind her with a soft swish.  It was during the entrance that she once again pushed the button on her cane, making it retract back into itself so she could stow it away.  She didn’t need her cane for this room.  In the times she was at the Ark, however brief, she was in this particular quarter enough times to know where everything was located.  She could hear typing coming from above and to the left of the doorway; no doubt the mech was on his computer, working on reports.  Next to that was his supped-up stereo system, and to the far right was his recharge birth.  The rest of the metallic walls were cupboards and what not to house personal items.

Jazz swiveled in his desk chair to face the newcomer, but seeing no one at the door, his blue visor then peered downwards to lock on to the beautiful red head.  His face instantly broke out in a grin, “Yo!  If it ain’t ma’ best friend in da’ whole world!”  He proceeded to walk over to her and bent down, “What’s happenin’?”

The teen couldn’t help but smile at his care free tone.  Shrugging, she tilted her head in his general direction, “Well, I was trying to read, but the twins were at it again.”

The saboteur chuckled as he gently lifted her up and strode over to his recharge birth, setting her down upon it.  But soon, he cast a quizzical glance as he grabbed the desk chair and flipped it backwards so he was sitting with his arms draped across the back rest.  Optics focused on her, he asked, “Why didn’t ya’ jus’ come in ‘ere in da’ first place?”

Kayla settled herself onto the sheet of metal and sighed, “Well, I was told you were working on reports…I didn’t wanna’ bother you.  I mean, there’s a time for work and…”

But the Porsche was quick to wave off her apology, “Awww, chill.  They were jus’ some personal logs I was fillin’ out, an’ I’m done.”  With a mix of concern and amusement, he lightly patted her back in reassurance, “But dat’ aside, ya’ know ya’ kin’ stop by anytime.  Don’t ever think you’re a bother, ‘cause ya’ not.”

The girl smiled as her face flushed red.  It seemed a bit weird; she had only known the guy for a little over a week, but in that short amount of time, the seed of a passionate liking had already blossomed.  Maybe it was in part to the situation status; it’s not every day one meets a superhero, transforming robot and get a free passport to hang with him and his friends to boot.  Or perhaps it was the music…yeah, that had to be it.  There weren’t too many people that understood and loved music as much as her.  It was pretty clear to everyone that the robot and red head seemed to complete each other.  Two peas in a pod; Sonny and Cher; Romeo and Juliet; the dynamic duo; two souls that had some kind of space in it, but was now filled, thanks to a match made in Heaven…or on a sheet of music.  Either way, if one half was feeling down, the other half knew how to cheer it up. Speaking of which, one of the halves did seem a bit depressed; the robotic half.  It was evident when the black and white mech asked the teen, “If da’ twins were botherin’ ya’, why didn’t ya’ jus’ tell ‘em?” Kayla ran a hand through her hair in thought, “Well…I’ve only been here three days; I don’t think I’ve earned the yelling privilege yet.”

Jazz chuckled, but the red head knew better.  It was a side benefit of playing an instrument with no eyes to use; honed listening skills.  Something was definitely bothering him, and now he was the one trying to not be a burden.  Unmasking the pained undertone to his speech, she inquired, “Okay, what’s wrong?”

The saboteur stared at her a moment, but when she smiled and flicked an ear, realization hit.  “Man, she’s good”, he thought.  Trying to find the right words (which, for him, was rare), he started with a huff, “Well, I…was lookin’ at ya’, an’…was jus’ thinkin’ ‘bout what happened a few days ago, an’…how dem’ ‘Cons could be so evil ta’ kidnap a nice lil’ lady like you…”

The teen’s eyebrow shot up, “Still sore?”

The Porsche nodded; blind, she was, but he long since learned that she didn’t need sight to know what he was expressing; the voice gave it away.  He continued on a more frustrated note, “I jus’ shoulda’ handled it different…I shoulda’ called ya’ earlier…”

A stern look came upon her as she reached out to feel around for his hand.  Finding it, she proceeded to rub it, knowing she opened up a side of him he rarely revealed, “Now come on; we’ve been through this before.  It was no one’s fault, and that EMP shield of theirs would’ve prevented the call anyway.  Besides, we’re all okay, so we can put it behind us.”

But Jazz wasn’t convinced.  Although he enjoyed the stroke of her hand on his, it also saddened him more at the thought of losing someone as precious as her, “I jus’ can’t stand ta’ think what I’d do without ya’…I jus’ want ya’ ta’ be safe…”

The girl pulled away and ran a hand across her face; what made him think she wasn’t safe?  Her best friends were a group of giant robots who swore to protect her; she was in the safest place on Earth!  But how could she tell him that?  These little lectures were getting boring.  There had to be some way to put him at ease…or at the very least, cheer him up.

It was then that she remembered that when the saboteur first arrived with her that morning, she left most of her things in his quarters; beloved guitar included…on the recharge birth she was currently sitting on.  That said, she began to feel around the metal bed, until she hit something leather; bingo.  With practiced skill, she had no trouble in unhinging the gold latches on the case, revealing a snow white instrument with black backing, and a musical note etched into the wood.  Setting it in her lap, she was instantly hit with the memory of its creation.

Her original guitar was vastly different, in colors at least, and earned the dubious honor of being nicknamed “Old Reliable”, due to its importance in crafting her skills as well as her very being.  It was also the catalyst for her first true meeting with the robotic musician, and she’d never forget that day in City Park.  But everything came crashing down when Megatron smashed the instrument in a rage during her capture.  Thankfully, the Autobots remedied that by crafting her the new one perched in her lap at the moment.  The Ark’s resident scientist, Wheeljack, was also to thank for her new, retractable cane.  She had so much to be thankful for, and now it was time to help return the favor.  Noting some of the subject matter, she happened upon a song that, in Jazz’s terms, “just might be able to swing it.”  With determination, but mostly a smile, she began to strum a melody that would hopefully lift his spirits.

The Porsche, meanwhile, began to tap his foot in time to the beat, and a tiny smile crept back onto his face.  He seemed to vaguely recognize this song, but the grin was mostly due to the fact that he knew she was about to sing…and he loved to hear her sing.  With a voice that, again in his terms, “came from the Matrix itself”, she proceeded to play the tune.

_Such a big man; such a little chick_

_I think it all goes back to your tiny-pick up truck in the drive way_

_With a sticker on the window-rest in peace number three_

_Tell all your friends how you put her in her place_

_7 pounds a’ make up just to hide her beat up face_

_Such a pretty face…_

_It takes a tough man to slap-her around_

_Such a bad guy to keep such a good girl down_

_She wearin’ shades but we all see_

_Behind the tinted glass_

_And I got 99 biker friends-that wanna’ kick your ass_

 

At that point, Jazz was grinning.  How she knew to play lyrically-appropriate songs for any situation, he’d never exactly know, but at the moment, he didn’t care.  He now seemed to remember this song; Bowling for Soup the band was called.  It was played on the radio a lot, so much that he decided to interject with his own voice.  While Kayla strummed the tune, his singing picked up where she left off.

 

_You tell her that you’re sorry; blame it on the beer_

_Your dad was mean to you_

_Your friends think you’re-an asshole_

_And I do too_

_Over compensatin’-for your small shoes_

_Taking her away-but you won’t say when_

_Hold her in your arms; tell her this won’t happen again_

_When will this end?_

_Well it-takes a tough man to slap-her around_

_Such a bad guy to keep such a good girl down_

_She wearin’ shades but we all see_

_Behind the tinted glass_

_And I got 99 biker friends-that wanna’ kick your-_

 

Needless to say, the girl was a bit put off at how her gargantuan friend knew the words, but it was immediately put aside with a bit of laughter as she continued with the next stanza.

 

_I wish Bruce Lee was here right now_

_With his trusty nun-chucks_

_Chuck Norris is still alive_

_S_ _o let’s-call up Walker Texas Ranger_

_All the dudes from Danger, Danger_

_Let’s get the A-Team_

_50 Cent with his bling-bling_

_And a couple of prison guards_

 

Finally, with the song coming to a close, both human and robot sang the last part together.

 

_It takes a tough man to slap-her around_

_Such a bad guy to keep such a good girl down_

_You’re such a tough guy; I can’t wait to bring you down_

_She wearin’ shades but we all see_

_Behind the tinted glass_

_And I got 99 biker friends-that wanna’ kick your ass_

_I hope that you can run fast… Start runnin’ now… We’re gonna’ kick your ass…_

 

As the last timbers of the chords died away, the pair couldn’t help but laugh for a good minute or two.  Jazz especially was beaming as he looked with delight at the red haired angel.  Now he realized why she chose that particular song, and frankly, that form of explanation was far better than words…and certainly more fun too.  With both him and the rest of the Autobots around, she’d be just fine…and somehow, she knew it too.

Content with the completed mission, Kayla smiled and tilted her head, “Feelin’ better?”

“A lot”, he grinned, “Thanks”.

The teen shrugged, “That’s what friends do for each other”.  She then cracked her knuckles and tuned the guitar to a different bar, adding in, “Now let’s swing it!”

With another hearty chuckle, the saboteur rested his chin in his hands as the aspiring musician began to strum another melody, which satisfied both human and robot, and thus sent a more enlightening air into both heart and spark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so starts the sequel to "Guitar Hero". Same as before; G1, but in contemporary times. Only this time, instead of one large story, each chapter is its own little story. So this sequel is actually a collection of stories, rather than one; just highlights of Kayla's little misadventures.
> 
> This first chapter was more or less just a recap of what happened in "Guitar Hero", for those coming in late. Although, if you haven't read that yet, I suggest you do.
> 
> And I wouldn't worry; this is the only time you'll find any swearing at all, but that was only because of the song.


	2. Commonplace

The wind quietly wisped through the trees of a peaceful, residential neighborhood; the reddish hues of the evening sunset casting a warm glow upon a small house of red brick.  A cement pathway jutted out from the doorstep to the edge of the cul-de-sac, and standing at this edge was a woman in her late 30s.  With short, red hair that matched the sunset, her sky blue eyes stared off at the road in front of her, as she awaited the return of her beloved daughter.  

This wasn’t the first time, however, that she was forced to exercise her patience.  When one’s daughter befriended Earth’s giant, robotic protectors, and visits were now becoming commonplace, it was also common for said mechs to be fashionably late in returning.

The woman let out a sigh as she realized something; common.  That’s the word she was using to describe these visits as well as her daughter’s friends; common.  Since when did trips to Autobot Headquarters and having acquaintances with Godzilla-sized robots become common?  Perhaps it was the time frame of things; it had been over three weeks now since that fateful day when the mother opened her front door to see a giant mechanoid lounging on her lawn.

That was one day she’d never forget.  Her daughter left the house early that morning; excited about something.  What it was, she didn’t know, and she didn’t have time to ask since she had to get to the bus stop so as not to be late for work.  Arriving home much later, she started dinner as usual; expecting the teen to come walking through the door like always.  But eventually, the hours continued to tick by, and the mother became more and more worried.  It was late in the evening when she finally heard a knock at the door, revealing her pride and joy looking a tad worse for wear.  The only thing stopping her from grounding the girl for life was the sight of a black and white robot grinning down at her.  Since her maternal instincts kicked into overdrive at that point, her daughter’s explanation remained a bit of a blur.  All she remembered was the basic gist of it all; Decepticons tried using the teen as a hostage, Jazz saved her, cane and guitar got broken, met the Autobots who built her new ones, offered the privilege to visit, and that’s about it.

But the image that was forever burned into her memory was the Autobot kneeling toward her level and lowering his blue visor, revealing the most beautiful optics she’d ever seen.  There was just something about him; an air of love, care, concern, politeness, and compassion that immediately put her at ease.  Everything about him was irresistible, and it was this revelation that actually made her give the “okay” to all of this.

The communicator given by him was essentially their private phone and direct line to the Autobots.  With this, visits became regular, and things were now falling into a bit of a routine.  Jazz, in his stylish Porsche form, would come in the morning and pick up both mother and daughter.  Said mom would then be dropped off at a bus stop much further down the line, since the two women’s routes split off at that point.  The woman would then take the bus all the way home, then wait for the saboteur to arrive with Kayla a little later.  So here she was; waiting for a familiar black, white, and blue Porsche to come rolling into the street with the stereo blasting as usual.  Jazz always picked them up, and it was always Jazz who brought the teen home.  Any minute now…

Soon enough, a vehicle did enter the parameters of the neighborhood…but it wasn’t the Porsche the woman came to like.  Instead, she merely watched as a bright red, 18 wheeler truck wheeled into the cul-de-sac, aligning the passenger-side door to the cement side walk with surprising and incredible ease.  The woman scratched her head in confusion as to why such a large truck would pull into a small neighborhood…that is, until she stole a glance at the trailer it was towing.  The Autobot symbol flanked proudly on the side and realization hit.

Just then, the door opened on its own accord, and a teenage, long-haired, red head slowly climbed out of the cab.  No doubt the delay was due to the unfamiliarity of the vehicle in question.  But the girl managed without complaint.  Arms agape, the teen readied herself for the hug she knew was coming, and her mother proceeded to do just that.  The Kenworth’s engine gave a rumble, and Kayla pulled away as she remembered.

“Oh yeah, how could I forget?” she said mostly to herself.  Turning back towards the truck, a pair of hands slid her guitar out of the cab, and she gathered the black, leather case in her arms, “Thanks for the ride, Optimus.”

“It was no trouble at all”, came a calm, deep voice.  The teen’s older double stepped to the side a bit to get a better look inside the cab of the truck.  After having an Autobot chauffeur for a little less than a month, she was oddly used to the sound of a disembodied voice.  However, it was the hands that passed the guitar that perked her immediate interest.  Sitting behind the wheel was an older gentleman, wearing slight cowboy attire, and a hat that kept most of his facial features in shadow.  He looked kind of like a cross between John Wayne and Peter Cullen…but the brightness of those blue eyes were unmistakable; this was another one of those holograms.  All the ‘Bots had them so fellow motorists wouldn’t freak out seeing an empty car driving itself.  She had seen Jazz’s holo-human plenty of times, but she didn’t think the mechs actually cared to make their “drivers” look different from one another.  All they needed was someone or something to look the part; why bother with what it looked like?

But the mother would have to ponder about it later, for Kayla suddenly took her by the hand and led her over to the passenger-side door, which was still open.  The teen waved a hand in the Kenworth’s general direction, and smiled, “Mom, allow me the honor to introduce you to Optimus Prime; leader of the Autobots.”

The woman’s mouth went agape for the second time that month.  So this was the famous Optimus Prime she’d seen on the news too many times to count.  Although, her surprise did make sense; one, all the publicized videos were of his robot form-she never saw what he looked like as a car, and two; she never thought the leader of all people would ever come to her house.  Then again, she never thought she’d have anything to do with the Autobots, period.  But she long since learned that life was full of darn, freakin’ surprises.  The ‘Bots were the definition of that.

The man in the driver’s seat removed his hat for a moment, smiled, and nodded politely at the girl’s mother, “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Mrs. Matthews.”

The woman both blushed and gulped at hearing his voice.  After listening to Jazz’s Southern/Cajun/cool-man’s lingo all the time, it was kind of weird to hear a new, metallic voice all of a sudden.  And this one was vastly different than the saboteur; deep, wise, and laced with authority.  Dwelling on it, it made sense he would sound as such; being the leader, he would always be called upon for any diplomatic issues, so his straight to the point properness probably stemmed from that.  Never the less, he was being kind, so she gave a kind response, “The-pleasure’s mine, sir…”

Kayla knew where this was going; her mom had “the talk” with Jazz too; best to leave them alone, “Um, you guys just get acquainted; I’m gonna’ head in.  Thanks again, Prime; I’ll see ya’ tomorrow maybe…so to speak.”  With that, the teen hoisted her guitar case over her shoulder and made her way up the walk, thanks to long time experience.  The ebony door opened and closed softly as she disappeared into the house.

Mrs. Matthews stared at the door for a moment, trying to sort out what to say to the infamous Autobot leader.  But her attention was immediately pulled back to the idling truck when Optimus beat her to the punch, “I assume you’re perplexed as to why Jazz isn’t here.  I regret to say that a mission called him away on short notice, but I promised him your daughter would be taken safely home, so I took it into my own hands.”

That was very thoughtful, the woman had to admit.  Before answering, she opted to cast her speaking attention not at the hologram, but rather, at the truck as a whole, “Thank you, Mr. Prime sir.”

The engine revved a little as he chuckled, “This may be our first meeting, but since her visits are becoming a regular occurrence, you may just call me ‘Optimus’.”

The mother smiled; taking a step closer, “I, um…I never thought I’d ever get the chance, but…thank you.  Not just for any of this, but for just being here…on Earth, I mean…to protect us.  You and your men don’t have to do it…but you do.”

Prime’s holo-driver cast her a friendly glance, “There’s no need to thank us.  We feel it’s our duty.  The Decepticons cannot be allowed to destroy any planet, especially one of great promise and beauty such as this.”

Mrs. Matthews couldn’t hide the pride on her face at that statement; the leader sounded a lot like her husband-always trying to do the right thing.  But at the mention of the ‘Cons, her expression turned to one of worry.  The ‘Bot must have noticed, for he asked gently, “Something troubles you?”

The woman was pulled from her thoughts at the question, and she stole a glance at the hologram.  There was a look of genuine concern.  Sighing heavily, she started, “You and the Autobots have done a lot, and there’s no denying that you’ll protect for what it’s worth…but that can’t stop basic, maternal instincts.”

Optimus knew what the lady was trying to say.  His hologram nodded in confirmation, “You’re worried for your daughter’s safety.”

The woman gave a sullen nod of her own, “Kayla’s my only daughter, and I love her.  I don’t know what I’d do without her, and with her…handicap, it only magnifies that worry.”  A pause, and then, “But she preserved without complaining.”

Prime let the words sink into his CPU as he thought in silence.  The mother’s fear was completely understandable; all the ‘Bots had become tightly nit over the millennia, so any blow to one was felt by everyone.  The same was said for their human friends, who became members of the “family” too, and now, the newest “relative” was making herself known.  And her mom was certainly right; that red head wasn’t a complainer, not in the least.  After all the torment she was put through, and yet, she never wanted the hero treatment.  The leader knew he had to point out her selflessness, so he did, “Kayla is a very remarkable young woman…I haven’t met many who hold a capacity for courage as much as she does.”

Mrs. Matthews blushed at the flattering statement, but her eyes fell to the ground, “We had a long talk about all of this that night I met Jazz…how it could work…and if she wanted to do it.  I won’t bore you with the details, but let’s just say that her words and Jazz’s introduction earlier was enough of a convincing argument for me to say ‘okay’.”  She rubbed the back of her neck in thought as she added in, “She was really excited about the whole thing; to be able to hang out with her heroes…but somehow…I honestly don’t think the robot aspect had anything to do with it…”

This statement earned her a quizzical glance from the holo-driver, and Optimus’ voice didn’t betray the look as he asked, “What do you mean?”

The woman cocked her head to one side, “Has she told you about her dad?”

“Yes”, Prime answered, “He’s a captain in your military, correct?”

To that, she nodded; her eyes becoming distant as she harkened back to days long past, “Kayla and Pete were really close, and they still are.  My work would keep me away sometimes, so he was the one she got to hang with…but our country had another call to arms recently.  So that meant, figuratively speaking, she wouldn’t see him for a long time.”  Another look of deep thought came over her, “He does get a shore leave every now and then…but never the less, you could count the visits on your hand.  Thankfully, work’s been good to me, and I’ve worked a steady 9 to 5 shift, but…Kayla just…I think she’s lonely…”

There was an uneasy pause as the Autobot leader took in this new information.  He remembered a few conversations he had with the teenager; all of which were pleasant.  And judging by some of the teams’ initial reactions to her, and her likewise to them, she always seemed very happy and energetic in her delivery.  For how nice she was, he never would’ve even suspected her being lonely in any way.  Before he could respond, the mother continued, “Kayla’s made plenty of aquatiences in her life, but as much as I hate to admit it, not too many people are eager to hang out with a blind girl a lot.  I think guitar was her saving grace; it gave her direction…but there were even fewer who understood it or liked it as much as her.”

Optimus inwardly smirked; having a feeling of where she was headed, “But Jazz did…”

Mrs. Matthews nodded with a tiny smile, “Before him, I never met someone so committed to music as much as her.  I mean, there were a few who liked it, but just not someone who was able to see it from her perspective and get it…he’s the first real friend she’s made in a long time.”  A pause, and then, “That’s what’s got me kind of divided…I worry, but…the two of them have this…bond…I don’t want her to lose him…”

Prime’s hologram nodded in understanding; the two music connisuars had grown attached over the weeks.  Kayla was always in Jazz’s quarters at some point in the day, and it certainly brought the saboteur great joy in having her visit almost every day.  He had also found a kindred spirit, and the leader wasn’t about to break it up either.  It was then that the 18 wheeler found that he could relate to the woman standing there, in many ways.  Both of them carried the weight and worries of the safety and well being of their loved ones, be it direct family, or close comrades.  Even before this revelation, he knew he had to say something to put her at ease, but he chose that moment to do it.

Without another thought, Optimus’ hologram stepped out of the cab and walked up to the mother standing near him.  Placing a hand on her shoulder, the leader gave her a comforting smile and spoke with confidence, “I find that we share much in common as well, and I can assure you, we’ll always look after your daughter.  I promised you and her our protection, and I always keep a promise…I’m glad to have met you, Mrs. Matthews.”

The woman stared into those electric blue eyes for quite a while, trying to register the whole conversation.  There was a lot to consider…but looking at that large, bold truck, and the hologram trying to give the vehicle a face, a sense of somewhat relief came over her.  There was just something about the Autobots, it seemed; first Jazz, and now Optimus Prime, that radiated trust.  And after being relatively alone for so long, it was both pleasing and safe to have someone to confide in.  With a smile, she finally answered, “It’s an honor to have met you too…Optimus.”

The hologram smiled warmly at her choice to call him by just his first name; hopefully this casual attitude would stay.  With another polite nod of the head, Prime’s holo-driver climbed back into his cab, and the doors “magically” shut on their own.  A quick honk of the horn, and the 18 wheeler turned around in the cul-de-sac with skill and ease.  Mrs. Matthews waved the whole time, until the Autobot leader drove out of sight.

With a smile still on her face, the mother turned on her heel and strode back to her house with a new found confidence.  Kayla was probably wondering what was keeping her so long, which made her also wonder what her husband was going to make of all this when he returned from the service.  But for now, she’d listen to her daughter’s latest adventure at the Ark…it was becoming pretty common after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: One thing I've always wondered is why Chip or Carly's parents were never shown, or, more importantly; what did they think of their children hanging out with the Autobots and going on these death-defying adventures? You'd THINK they'd be even a TAD worried for their safety? It was this question that spawned this little episode of what Kayla's mother thought about all this.


	3. Skin Deep

_You walk away from me tonight-not knowing the real me_

_‘Cause you believe in all the hype-I just took down the magazine_

_Take away the glamour, the world, let it show_

_And forget everything you know_

_Take away the mirrors, the limos, the lights_

_‘Cause I don’t wanna’ dress up tonight_

 

_I’m gonna’ put on my old blue jeans_

_I’m gonna’ walk out here into the street_

_Would you put up resistance-would it make a difference_

_Would you know the real me_

_Me an’ my old, blue jeans_

 

_You think I’m unapproachable-bet I don’t feel enough_

_Should read a book cover to cover and not be so quick to judge_

_Take away the glamour, the make up, the clothes_

_And forget everything you know_

_Take away the ego, the trick of the light_

_‘Cause I don’t wanna’ dress up tonight_

 

_I’m gonna’ put on my old blue jeans_

_I’m gonna’ walk out here into the street_

_Would you put up resistance-would it make a difference_

_Would you know the real me_

_Me an’ my old, blue jeans_

 

The last timbers of the chords died away, and the room of content Autobots gave a cheerful applause.  Kayla brushed her dangling, red hair out of her face and bowed; her black and white guitar hovering near her body thanks to the strap around her neck.  After that, the rec. room pretty much quieted down, and the mechs went back to drinking their energon.

The young musician sat down, stretched, and stiffened a yawn; it may have been almost ten in the morning, but she and Jazz arrived at the Ark much earlier.  Speaking of whom, the saboteur, who was seated next to her, gave his commendations, “ ‘Nother smash hit by da’ musical Matthews.”

“Awww, come on…” the girl said; resting her chin in her hands.  But it was true; Decepticon activity decided to lay low for the day, much to everyone’s immense relief.  With this in mind, many of the ‘Bots saw to it to overlap their duty shifts so they’d all receive their downtime together.  However, when that downtime did arrive, the group found themselves a bit bored.  But the teen sought to remedy the situation with a few melodies, courtesy of her guitar.  Thanks to her intervention on the cabin fever, she had been spirited from one spot in the rec. room to another by various mechs who wanted front row seats to the show.  Kayla was happy as well, not only to cheer up her friends, but more so to get a feel for everything in the room.  The passing weeks had her through many places about the Ark, and the red head now had about a quarter of the ship committed to memory.

Presently, she was seated atop a table, around which many of the ‘Bots were gathered.  Along with Jazz, there was Bumblebee, Wheeljack, Prowl, Cliffjumper, and Sideswipe.  Everyone held a grin as they swapped stories and sipped their energon in peace.  It was always a nice treat for Kayla to decide to play her instrument for them with a practiced grace.  In fact, it was starting to become evident that she seemed to have this innate ability to lift a foul mood.  At least the tactician was quick to notice; ever the quiet, but sharp one he was.  As for the girl, the treat for her was to have the chance to listen to the mechs’ various stories and ramblings, giving her the opportunity to learn more about her interesting array of friends.  Perhaps her father would be willing to share some of his own war stories when he came home on shore leave.  That is, if the towering robots didn’t freak him out first.

Just then, there came the swish of automatic doors, and everyone turned their heads to face the newcomer.  Cliffjumper was the first to speak, and what he said was with a snicker, “Speakin’ of ego…”

Sunstreaker came prancing into the room; a hint of pride in his step…or was it cockiness?  His yellow paint job seemed extra bright, like it was just painted on, and Jazz, with his heightened senses, thought he picked up a pine-fresh smell wafting off the mech.  No doubt that was due in part to a recent washing and waxing, seeing as how the door he entered through led to the car wash/showers down the hall.  In fact, judging by the way the lights gleamed off the chrome, and the way he sparkled, the ‘Bot might have called for extra wax on this one.  All n’ all, the Lambo twin glistened like the sun; living up to his name in the fullest.  Reaching the table, he struck his best pose and drawled, “Hey guys; take a load off your optics.”  Yep; definitely cockiness.

A chorus of sighs and “Hi, Sunny”, went around the group.  Clearly, no one was particularly impressed, at least not in his delivery.

The yellow mech crossed his arms in a huff, “Come on, I worked half the morning on this.”  He gestured to his body for emphasis, “Thought you’d like it.”

Wheeljack rested his head in one hand; head fins flashing as he spoke, “Eh, don’t worry.  You look-good.”  He made sure the last word was dripping with sarcasm.

Sideswipe was quick to notice his brother flaring up, so he attempted to douse the flames, “Well, you’re definitely shiny; what made you go all day spa?”

A smile crept back into Sunny’s features; at least someone was on his side, and no surprise it was his twin.  He flicked his head in an almost challenging way, “ ‘Cause I felt like it.  A mech’s gotta’ keep up his good looks.  In fact, with this bling-bling, don’t I look royal?”

Without missing a beat, Cliffjumper shot him an evil grin, “Yeah, like King Kong.”  He burst out laughing; adding insult to injury.

However, the other mechs knew this wouldn’t be a joke for long.  Sunny and Cliff had a history of knocking each other’s heads off, usually stemming from the Minibot’s brash attitude and the Lamborghini’s short temper.  And usually, the confrontations ended the same.  Cliff would be howling away in med bay; Ratchet’s “caring” bed-side manner in tow, and Sunny would be sulking down in the brig.  Despite all incidents, the two ceased to find themselves at each other’s throats.  As if on cue, the yellow mech started for the smaller, red one with a low growl, “Why you little…”

“Enough”, came Prowl’s even, but firm tone.  The tactician had no desire to babysit the quarreling ‘Bots down in the brig; again.  He glared at the two, as if trying to subconsciously send them that very message, and they wisely backed off.  But both sides held a scowl and the others breathed a sigh of relief.

By that time, Kayla had placed her guitar back in the nearby case, and was using it as a makeshift chair.  Crossing her legs and reclining back on her hands, the teenager listened to the conversation with interest.  She had spoken to the twins plenty of times before, but the subject matter of which they were famous for hadn’t really come up until now.  The girl was told of Sideswipe’s endless list of practical jokes, and thanked the Lord she didn’t meet the business end of them…not yet at least.  And she hadn’t seen (no pun intended) Sunstreaker’s supposed vanity in action; now she could mark that off her “to do” list.  But unfortunately for him and his said vanity, while the others were forced to gawk at the display, she had an ace up her sleeve; dead eyes.  To voice the point, she replied in a sarcastically sincere tone, “I think you look great.”

The yellow Lambo twin turned to her with a smile, “Thank you, I-“  But his optics went wide as realization hit.  The teenager’s eyes continued staring at the table; wry smile clearly showing.  Crossing his arms, the mech spat, “You’re a real comedian…”  But that was all the further he’d ever take any anger out on the red head.  After everything the ‘Cons put her through and how she faced up to it all, she silently earned Sunny’s respect.  “The girl with guts” as he would sometimes refer to her as.

A soft ripple of chuckles went up and down the table at Kayla’s attempt at comedy.  It was nice that she was beginning to loosen up a bit and not use formalities as much when dealing with the other mechs besides Jazz.  They also found it interesting, Prowl especially, how the teen seemed so insensitive to the subject of her eyes, as if blindness was nothing.

Just then, there came another swish of automatic doors, but this time, everyone had to look downwards to see who it was.  The human mechanic, known as Sparkplug, casually strolled in, with his son, Spike, following close behind.  As they approached the group, the boy did a once over of a sheet of paper held in his hand, “Ok, are you sure everything we need is on the list?”

The father heaved a small sigh; clearly this wasn’t the first time his son asked the question, “Yes, I’m positive.  Everything from electrical tape to jumper cables; it’s on there.”

Bumblebee leaned over the table to address his friends, “What’s goin’ on, guys?”

“We’re runnin’ low on supplies in the lab”, Sparkplug explained, “We’re gonna’ head into town to get some stuff.  Anyone wanna’ provide the transportation?”  His head surveyed the group for volunteers. The Volkswagen started to rise up from his seat, when a voice said, “I’ll do it.”

All eyes and optics turned to Sunstreaker in shock.  What did he just say?  He hardly offered anyone a ride.  Spike, who was so used to Bee being the taxi, blinked in surprise, “You…you will?”

“Sure”, the Lambo twin answered; stepping forward, “I’ve been cooped up in the Ark for so long, it’ll be nice to get out for a while.”  Although, the others knew there had to be another motive for the generous occasion.  The mech had just come out of a fresh wash and wax; no doubt the real reason for the endeavor was to show off his new glam to the many passerby…and they were right.

The boy gave a sideways glance at his Minibot friend.  The Beetle, in turn, looked towards Sunny for a moment, then back at the human and gave a reluctant nod of approval.  The Lambo twin may have liked to speed, but even he knew to be careful, especially with people riding inside him.  Spike scratched his head at the weirdness of it all, “Um…o-kay.”

With that, Sunstreaker transformed, and father and son got in the front seats.  However, just as he was about to peel out the door, another voice caught everyone’s attention.  This time, the group turned toward Kayla, who replied, “Mind if I come with?  I haven’t been in the city for a while.  If anything, it’s for the ride.”

This time, it was Jazz who was a bit worried; she was his best friend after all; he’d hate to see her get hurt.  His gaze then went from her, to the yellow Lamborghini idling near the exit, and he gave the twin a look.  Looking up at the saboteur, and sensing the tension, the mech reassured him, “Don’t worry, Jazz.  I’ll take care of ‘em.  They’re in good hands.”

A few more seconds passed, and the Porsche finally gave in.  As gently as he could, he lifted Kayla off the table and set her down near the car so she could easily climb into the backseat, and she proceeded to do just that.  Finally, with no arguments left, Sunstreaker burned rubber to leave the Ark; his three passengers safely secure.

It was of good fortune that Autobot Headquarters wasn’t far from the city limits, ensuring short, safe trips for their human associates, as well as quick arrival times should the Decepticons attempt to attack the city.  On this particular day, the buildings gleamed with an extra brilliance, due in part to a light rainfall the previous night.  The same could be said for the Lamborghini, who’s yellow paint job glistened and sparkled; attracting the many onlookers parading the sidewalks.  As he cruised the streets, Sunny smiled inwardly; enjoying all the attention his new looks were getting.  Adding an engine rev every now and then, he picked up the pace, knowing he’d have ample time to show off in a parking lot he was sure he’d have to wait in.

Sure enough, one last turn off made Sanford’s Hardware come into view.  The place was sort of a “Home Depot” meets “Pep Boys”, in that everything and anything outdoors or mechanical could be found there.  So, not only could one fix their fence, but their car as well.  The father and son duo had been there too many times to count, usually having to fetch spare parts after another one of Wheeljack’s laboratory mishaps.  Sunstreaker made sure to grab the first parking spot in the lot; ensuring the ultimate display of his grandeur.  Once that was taken care of, he proceeded to let his three passengers out.  Spike took Kayla by the hand and started to lead her, when she pulled away.  Curious, he asked, “You’re not coming with us?”

The teen pretended to rub her chin in thought, “Well, I thought about it, but then I realized my Ferrari doesn’t need a tune up today.”

The boy laughed at her sarcastic remark, but also mentally kicked himself for not considering it; what would a blind girl need at an auto shop?  But everything she said afterwards was with sincerity, “I just wanted some fresh air is all.  I’ll wait for you guys right here.”  She then leaned in and whispered, “Besides, someone’s gotta’ keep Mr. Long, Tan, and Handsome company.”

“I heard that”, came the mech’s disembodied voice.

The human trio let out another laugh before Sparkplug replied, “Suit yourself.”  With that, the two mechanics entered the store, leaving the girl and the dazzling car to bask in the sun.

Despite his best efforts, Sunstreaker couldn’t help but giggle as his waxed brilliance made the coming and going shoppers stare in awe at the vehicle; a similar effect to the people lining the city streets.  Kayla, meanwhile, stiffened a groan; blind certainly didn’t mean deaf.  She could hear every one of the “ooohs” and “aaahs” coming from the spectators, and the muffled laughs coming from a car that normally shouldn’t be sentient.  Physical beauty was something she couldn’t understand, and wouldn’t, and she often wondered if that was a good thing or not.  It sounded like it was nice to look at, but it served no other purpose.  Sadly, and apparently, very few had learned by now that beauty was only skin deep, or in Sunny’s case, metal deep.  With a sigh, the red head used her cane to find the nearby curb; Spike and Sparkplug were probably going to be awhile; no sense in just standing there and blocking the “glamorous” Autobot from the viewing public.

But just as she was about to sit down, her sensitive hearing picked up a noise, causing her to freeze.  She pulled her hair behind her ears, and tilted her head slightly; trying to determine the source of the disturbance.  A yell is what caught her attention, and now it sounded like a group of people; teenagers specifically, were having an argument of sorts.  It also sounded close, like it was only an isle or two down from where she was standing in the lot.  But what really caused Kayla to be alarmed was that the yell came from a girl…who sounded frantic…and oddly familiar.

“Why can’t you guys just leave me alone?!” cried the aforementioned teen.  Her long, brown hair covered the pained look on her face as she stormed across the road toward a red car.

Not too far behind her, three other teenagers; one girl and two guys, held scowls as they followed the distressed young woman.  The girl had blonde hair and sported a crop top and shorts; a combination that would find her highly attractive to most.  The two boys flanked either side of her, wearing the latest trends in T-shirts and baggy pants.  One of them had a jean jacket; the other, a backwards hat.  The guy in the jacket spat back, “Because we don’t want comic geek, librarian-dressed, losers in our territory!”

The girl fiddled with the edge of her sweater to try and block out the yells, deciding this time to not answer back.  Instead, she attempted to wipe away a tear as she began to fish for her car keys.  But before she could reach in her pocket, someone roughly grabbed her hair and pulled, forcing her to turn around.  The guy with the backwards hat snapped, “Hey!  We’re talkin’ to you!”

The pained teen grimaced, but stared at the ground, not wanting to meet her tormentors’ gazes.  The blond girl eyed the long hair she pulled and replied in a mocking tone, “Is Cher your aunt or something?  I don’t remember the hippie look ever being in style.”

The girl adjusted her glasses, which were beginning to slide down her nose, and crossed her arms, waiting for the insults to stop.  Backwards Hat put on a pitiful expression and pretended to cry, “Awww, I think we hurt 4-eyes’ feelings.”

Before the girl could react, Jean Jacket lifted his foot and pushed her, sending her to land on her rear in a large puddle right behind her.  With her pants now soaked to the bone, she could only put her head down even more; forced to listen to the roars of laughter coming at her from seemingly all directions.

Just then, the girl felt someone take hold of her shoulder, but very softly.  Curious to the change in tenderness, she slowly turned her head skyward to gaze into a red head’s dark sunglasses; a stark white cane in hand.  With a look of concern, the sudden savior quickly found her hand and pulled her up, asking, “Casey, are you okay?”

Before the answer came, the blond girl quipped, “She’ll be fine once she buries her pizza face, and –“

Kayla swung her cane in the voice’s general direction; anger flaring up, “Hey, you back off!”

But the blonde didn’t, turning to address her cronies instead, “Looks like 4-eyes is gettin’ Helen Keller to fight her battles for her.”

The red head paid no heed to the insults, at least not yet.  Instead, she gently pushed the Casey girl back, and stood protectively in front of her, whispering, “Get outta’ here.”

The girl stared at the teenager trying to help her; not wanting to ditch her with the Three Stooges, “But…”

Kayla turned her head slightly, and muttered, “I got friends in high places; literally.  They won’t do anything.  I’ll be okay, now go.”  The girl continued to stare at the showdown of sorts, as she fished for her keys; hoping she was making the right decision.  After one, final glance, she very reluctantly got in her car and drove off.

That left Kayla all alone with the peanut gallery.  But she, quite frankly, wasn’t worried; mainly because she had dealt with these three goons before.  They, and the Casey girl included, all lived in the red head’s neighborhood, making their voices easily recognizable, and the reason she responded to the fight so quickly.  These three hooligans lived for glam, so it was no surprise they chose a quiet, bookworm as their target.  It was also no surprise they’d be here.  No doubt the guys came to get some car parts to pimp out their rides and show them off like they usually did.  They thought they were all that, but now they were dealing with someone who was captured by Decepticons and lived to tell the tale.  In fact, they sort of reminded her of those three Seekers who she so graciously dubbed “Jet Screamer”, “Thunderhead”, and “Skyjerk”…and she knew how to handle them.

Angered at losing their prey, the three ruffians began circling the red head much like sharks.  Backwards Hat spoke first, “Well, long time, no see”.  He made sure the irony of the statement was clear.

Kayla sighed and did her best Prowl imitation, “Say what you want, but I’m not stooping to your level…at least not your grade school level of insults.”

“Ooooh, I’m shaking”, Jean Jacket spat, “So, who gave you your fashion tips?  Ray Charles?”

“Nah, it must have been Dracula”, the blonde added with a snicker, “He can’t see his reflection, remember?  It’d also explain the sunglasses, since getting a decent tan isn’t on his ‘to do’ list, or hers.”

The red head rolled her eyes, “Phft.  Is that the best you got?  Seriously, is this all you do?  Just pick on people who actually have a conscience?”  She added in with disgust, “Or are you just miffed because your monthly issue of Glamour Magazine didn’t come in yet?”

The blonde flared up in rage and got in Kayla’s face, “News flash, Helen; I got two, hot guys hitting on me, a sense of fashion, and a sweet ride.  I definitely don’t need a preaching on it from an ‘eagle-eyed’, Ugly Betty like you.”

The two guys grinned wickedly at the insult.  Kayla stood her ground and said nothing; making it clear in her facial features that the torment wasn’t going to bring her down easily.  However, a gasp emerged, but not from any of the teenagers or passerby.  Two isles down, Sunstreaker held his breath in utter shock.  He was so busy basking in the limelight earlier, that he almost didn’t notice the yelling.  But his attention was quickly brought to it, when he watched his blind charge walk away, using the commotion as a guide.  From his parked spot, the mech easily witnessed the entire confrontation, and what he saw, as well as heard, stunned him into submission.  He couldn’t believe how blatantly cruel these three slaggers were being.  Even more shocking was how Kayla was taking it.  She didn’t seem too put off by the whole ordeal…how come? he wondered.

The three creeps started advancing on the teenager, when a strict voice was heard from behind, making them freeze, “Is there a problem here?”  They all turned around to see a man in his early 40s, sporting short, brown hair, and a spare tire, glaring at them.  The red head, meanwhile, relaxed; relief had come in the form of Sparkplug, and not a moment too soon.  His son stood behind him, carrying bags in both hands, and he looked none too pleased either.

The hooligans stared at the man before them, wondering who he was.  But seeing the scowl on his face let them know he wasn’t one to be messed with.  With a nervous chorus of “no, no, no”, the three leaved off to the side, so Kayla would be in plain view.  Spike transferred all the bags to one hand, and took the teenager’s hand in the other, replying, “Come on; let’s get back to the others.”

After one more angry glance at the ruffians, the mechanic strode off to join his son, and the trio made their way back towards the disguised Sunstreaker.  As soon as everyone was safely secure, the Lamborghini’s voice drawled out of the speakers, “You alright?”

The girl sighed as she retracted her cane, “Fine”.

As the yellow mech began backing out of the spot, Spike peered out the window to stare at the three bullies, who were now clustered together, chatting away.  The boy broke the tense silence, “Who were those guys?”

Kayla slumped in her seat a bit, and growled, “No one important.”

The oil inside the Autobot was practically boiling in anger; how dare those creeps insult the kid like that!  Just as he was nearing the exit, he was struck with an idea, and instead of merging into traffic, he took a sharp left turn and circled the lot.  Coming around the last isle of cars, he stopped at the turn and scoped out his target.  The hooligans were still standing in the spot they were left in; oblivious to what was about to happen.  The pool of water they had dumped their first victim in was right next to them…if he could just hit it at the right angle…

Giggling madly, Sunstreaker floored the gas pedal; the force throwing his passengers back in their seats.  By the time anyone realized what happened, it was already over.  The bullies turned just in time to see a yellow blur zip past them, jet-black tires careening into the giant puddle, and a wall of dirty, ice-cold water hit them like a ton of bricks.  Their bodies soaked to the marrow, the three dingbats did nothing but curse.

The two mechanics gaped in both amusement and shock, while the Lambo twin grinned inwardly, “Now that was funny…”  But a quick check in his rear view mirrors made him lose the chuckle instantly.  Apparently, when he was giving the Stooges a taste of their own medicine, he hadn’t calculated the angle exactly right.  He had planned the splash would douse the trio, but spare his glossy finish; so not the case.  His whole left side was all wet, and the wind blowing the liquid back made the dirt in the rain water spread and dry like that.  So now, he had a light brown splotch on one side, making the yellow paint cease to shine.  “Great”, he grumbled, “and I just got this finish perfect…”

Choosing to ignore his ramblings, Kayla spoke up, “Thanks for helping me out, Mr. Witwicky.  It’s people like them that give everyone else a bad name.”

Sparkplug was about to respond when Sunstreaker interrupted, “Those guys are jerks; you’re beautiful, kid.”

The teenager smiled; apparently the two mechanics weren’t the only ones watching the stand off.  After a few muffled coughs, she said, “Well…thanks, but, it’s okay.”

The car was silent for a moment as the ‘Bot tried to make sense of what he just heard, “But, those guys insulted you…how can you say that?”

The girl’s smile faded slightly; a more serious tone seeping in.  Her eyes and head turning upwards just a tad, she replied matter-of-factly, “It’s one of the pros about being blind; I never have to worry about appearances”.  A short pause, and then, “I don’t care what I look like, and I don’t need anyone’s approval…it’s the inside that counts…”

The rest of the drive was silent as everyone in the cab contemplated her words; the Lambo twin especially.  Now the teen’s reactions made sense…and he suddenly found that he didn’t.  Personal grooming was always one of his top priorities…but…coming from someone who couldn’t see…it cast the whole business in a new light…and now he couldn’t help but feel the twinge of being a bit of a jerk himself.  Granted, he wasn’t prone to much change, but…after what he saw and her little speech…it was something to consider…

The group soon found themselves back at the Ark, and the human trio bailed out, allowing Sunstreaker to transform.  The splash from earlier now caked most of his left leg, and a bit of his chest section; he’d have to hit the showers.  While Spike and Sparkplug headed towards Wheeljack’s lab with their mechanical, pirate booty, a nearby Jazz scooped up Kayla and placed her on his shoulder.  When  the saboteur inquired about the splotch, the Lamborghini mumbled, “Eh…just hit a puddle is all; a quick wash’ll get it off.”  And the twin left it at that.  That girl and the Porsche were close; if he got wind of what happened in the lot…the twin had no clue what the Special Ops. Officer would do.  Thankfully, the teen caught Sunny’s covert signal and merely laughed, saying that her best friend didn’t miss anything.  

Satisfied with the answer, the two musicians trotted away.

With that over and done with, the Lambo twin moseyed down an adjoining hallway, headed for the carwash.  He was passed by many of his comrades along the way, all of whom didn’t seem to mind his appearance.  But one mech in particular made sure to rub it in his face.  Reaching an intersection, the yellow ‘Bot was sidelined by Cliffjumper, who’s optics immediately went to the dirt and grime plastering his rival.  The Minibot let out a laugh, “Hey Sunny; looks like mother nature didn’t approve of your “perfect” paint job.”

The twin gave the little, red demon a death stare, and flared up, “Well ya’ know what?!”  There was a long pause between them; Cliff projecting a defying sneer; his opponent trying to come up with a retort.  Finally, after what seemed like ages, the twin heaved a sigh, and stated matter-of-factly, “…looks aren’t everything.”

Proud at himself for upstaging the Minibot, Sunstreaker marched past, leaving Cliffjumper to gape in confusion.  However, instead of heading for the showers, the Lamborghini decided to find his brother first and see what he was up to…the thin layer of dirt could wait…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: A segment of the various types of bullying taken right out of my own life, unfortunately. Too bad I didn't have a giant robot to rescue me.
> 
> This was actually one of the first ideas I had for the book. If you have a character (Sunstreaker) who cares about his looks, it seemed only natural to pair him with the blind girl, and see what happens. 
> 
> The trickiest part was coming up with the ending; I didn't want Sunny to have a complete and sudden attitude change, 'cause it'd be out of character, but something just enough to show he's at least giving it some thought. Hopefully, it turned out alright; I think it did, anyway.


	4. Shades of Gray

Kayla came walking into the main deck of the Ark; her cane tapping the floor like a radar, scoping out any obstructions that lay ahead.  But now, with the memory of half the ship under her belt, she was quick in maneuvering her way up to the source of a typing sound she heard immediately upon entry.  Reaching a stop, a hand sweep told her she found a computer console; the buttons being a giveaway.  The identity of the typist, however, wasn’t so clear.  But whoever it was, they must have been engrossed in their work too much to notice her standing right next to them.

“Penny for your thoughts?” she asked in an upward direction.

His trance-like state broken, Prowl’s gaze shifted from the screen of Teletraan-One to the young musician standing a few feet next to him.  How did he not notice her?  Apparently, she was in Jazz’s company so often, his saboteur skills were rubbing off on her.  “Pardon?” he inquired.

“The tactician”, she deduced upon hearing his stoic voice.  That explained the obliviousness to the casual saying.  Despite his vast amount of knowledge, he still had a gray area when it came to Earth customs.  With an amused smile, she waved a hand, “Um…never mind.”

“I needed to dispatch Jazz on a mission”, the second in command explained, “In case you were curious.”

“Oh, I know”, the girl nodded, “He told me before he left.  I understand duty comes first”.  She then added in on a more awkward note, “I, um…hope I’m not bothering you.”

The police car smiled; always so polite that girl was.  He turned his attention back to the screen, replying, “Not at all.  I’m actually waiting for Teletraan-One to return the sky spy.  Decepticon activity has been detected, but we’re having trouble finding the source.  It has me baffled.”

Kayla rubbed her chin in thought, “Think they found another use for that EMP shield of theirs?”

“It is a possibility”, Prowl reasoned, then turned to the red head with a look of pride.  If she wasn’t playing that instrument of hers or hanging with Jazz, she was exploring the ship; learning all she could with patience and fascination.  However, the cause for the stare was her memory preserve.  The teen had learned of the ‘Cons’ jamming frequency during the time she had been captured by them, and it was surprising she hadn’t forgotten that smaller detail, even though that was almost a month and a half ago.

“Speakin’ of which”, she said, “Didn’t you say you were trying to counter the effects of the shield?”

“Yes”, he answered, “The science lab and I have been looking into it since the day you mentioned its existence.  We haven’t figured everything out, but we’ve gotten very far, thanks in part to Chip Chase’s assistance.”

Kayla’s eyebrow went up as she crossed her arms, “Oh yeah, the computer kid.  It’s funny, in all the time I’ve been here, I haven’t met him yet, and everyone speaks highly of him.”

Just then, there was the swish of automatic doors.  When the tactician turned his head and saw who it was, he almost chuckled at the irony of that last statement.  A smile did manage through as he glanced back at the girl for a moment, replying, “It appears you’re about to get your chance.”

A boy about Spike’s age had entered the room.  He had short brown hair, brown eyes, and glasses, and wore a button down shirt and pants, giving him a more bookish-type look.  With a soft smile, he moseyed up to Teletraan-One and his Autobot friend…or rather, he wheeled himself up.  The wheelchair he was confined to made no noise on the metallic floors, causing the red head confusion as to why she didn’t hear footsteps coming their way. “Hi, Prowl”, the boy greeted; adding in a wave.

“Afternoon”, the police car nodded.  Reaching out, he gently pushed the teen forward a few steps as he made introductions, “Chip, I’d like you to meet our newest friend, Kayla Matthews.  Kayla, this is the boy you wanted to meet, Chip Chase.”

The girl held out her hand and grinned, “The others’ve talked about you a lot.  Nice to meet ya’.”

“I’ve heard a lot about you too”, the boy smiled warmly as he approached, “Sorry I didn’t run into you sooner.  I’m usually helping Prowl or Wheeljack, so I’m mostly in the lab all the time.”

“It’s all cool”, she said as he took her outstretched hand for a friendly shake.  As soon as the two hands made contact, Kayla immediately took notice of the way this new aquatience made the shake.  It was both soft and firm, but in those split seconds, she could’ve sworn he also gave her hand a gentle squeeze…almost in a…comforting way…

Her thoughts and ponders of his motives were suddenly broken when a beeping sound was heard.  The two teens turned toward the noise, and found Prowl activating his internal communicator (or at least Chip could see it; Kayla merely listened).  A moment went by, and then he said, “I’m on my way”.  Deactivating the link, he turned to the humans and explained, “Prime requires my presence.  Chip, could you please monitor Teletraan-One until I return?”

“No problem”, the boy assured him.  With that, the tactician left the room, leaving the computer wiz to wheel into position and take control.

“Wow…he must really be good if Prowl trusts him to use Teletraan”, Kayla thought as she once again leaned against the console.  Curious, she then spoke up, “So, um…how didja’ meet the Autobots?”

“It was a while back”, Chip explained as he typed, “I was helping a doctor perfect an antimatter formula, and naturally, the Decepticons wanted it.  Long story short, the world didn’t blow up, and I’ve been friends with the Autobots ever since.”

The red head let out a low whistle, “Somebody told me you helped Prowl specifically.”

“A fight left his battle computer down”, the boy continued, “When he linked up with my computer, I became his hands so to speak.”

The girl chuckled, “War Games, much?”

The computer wiz raised an eyebrow at the pop culture reference.  Taking his silence for confusion, she stated, “Just because I can’t watch movies doesn’t mean I can’t listen to them.”

To that, the boy giggled.  His work finished for the time being, he turned his chair to give her his full attention, “So what about you?  The others told me all about your guitar and how nice you are, but they kinda’ left me in the dark on how you got here.”  He quickly added in, “Uh-no offense.”

Kayla waved off the pun with a smile, “Long story short, boy meets girl; boy likes girl; girl likes boy; boy’s enemies kidnap girl to get boy’s super weapon; girl uses music to send message; weapon goes haywire; girl destroys weapon; girl gets to hang out with boy.”

“And the ‘boy’ is Jazz?” Chip asked; an amused lilt to his voice.

The teen ran a hand through her hair in embarrassment, “Howja’ guess?”

“Anytime I’ve talked to him, he can’t sing enough praises about you and your guitar”, the computer wiz replied, making the girl blush.  He then added in, “I think he really likes you…”

The red head smiled, but shifted on her feet, “Well, I…I like him a lot too…he’s one of the fastest, but closest friends I’ve made.  We just…get each other.”  Her grin faded as she sighed; her sightless eyes becoming distant, “And I’m really thankful he came along…I doubt blindness is on anyone’s friend list…it kinda’ surprised me that he’d accept me the way I am, and seemingly without any regrets either…”

The boy gave a solemn nod; a serious air seeping in, “I know what you mean…it’s hard for people to take you with open arms when you’re confined to a wheelchair.”

Kayla’s eyes went wide at this startling new piece of information; no wonder she didn’t hear footsteps when he came in!  This also shed some proverbial light on the Autobots; they must have thought his handicap wasn’t much of a big deal, so much in that they’d forgotten to mention it to her.  But more importantly, the knowledge of his disability now explained his interesting handshake earlier.  His comforting squeeze must have come out of finding a kindred spirit of sorts…someone who would understand what it was like…

Puns aside, Kayla could now see Chip in a new perspective, and felt a bit relieved.  Two people from two different walks of life; both having their lives turned upside down for obvious reasons, now had someone to talk to.  Turning in his general direction, and arms crossed, she began very gently, “I don’t wanna’ sound like a jerk, but…I assume that’s part of the reason you’re such a computer wiz…”

Surprisingly, instead of him lashing out, he agreed with her, “Yeah, well…before this…thing set in, I was never that athletic in the first place.  Reading was my pastime.”  He heaved a sigh, and after a short pause, he actually chuckled as he thought about it, then said, “A bookworm doesn’t need to run around…so I guess it never mattered.”

The red head nodded, and just stood there in silence, trying to choose her words carefully.  She knew very well she was entering sensitive subject matter, but with said revelations, it sounded like the boy wanted to get something off his chest…and she knew she was the perfect ear for it.  To try and cheer him up with a positive, she reasoned, “You’re a really great asset to the ‘Bots…the way Prowl trusts you to use Teletraan-One…now that’s respect.”

To that, Chip smiled, “Don’t let me take all the credit; you’ve helped them out a lot too.”  But his head went down as the grin disappeared again, “But…it’s a shame knowing that…your story’ll be harder to believe because of your…situation.”

In her head, the girl was laughing at his choice of words; situation?  That’s what he called it?  Never the less, she couldn’t help but give mad props to his courtesy; she knew he was only trying to be polite in mentioning her-ahem, situation.  And he did have a point, much like what she addressed earlier regarding his-situation.  But there was one thing he didn’t know about her, and she made it clear by replying, “I wouldn’t care if no one knew what I did in the slightest.”

That threw the computer wiz for a loop, “You…y-you don’t?”

Kayla shook her head, “I’m no hero…at least I don’t think I am; I just did what anyone else would’ve done.  But that doesn’t mean I, or anyone else like me, don’t deserve respect.  I just do enough to hope that people’ll understand that I’m not some helpless, damsel in distress in need of rescuing constantly.”  She narrowed her eyes in a bit of disgust, “But sometimes, just the cane or a hand signal or a chair is enough for people to misjudge, and that’s the real shame.”  Her shoulders slumping, she added, “…sometimes I wonder if I’m lucky that I can’t see…”

Chip understood perfectly where she was coming from in the case of judgment and respect; his side of the tracks were no walk in the park either (pardon the pun).  But her last statement was a cause for surprise; she thought she was lucky?  To that, he said, “You…you do?”

The red head nodded and added in a sigh, “Because I’ll never know what people look like, it forces me to listen, and actually know them for who they are…it makes it impossible to believe in labels when there’s nothing to label in a void.”  A short pause, and then she actually giggled, “And besides, if I wasn’t blind, then I probably wouldn’t have taken up guitar, and without that, then I might not have gotten mixed up with the ‘Cons, but then I wouldn’t have met Jazz or the Autobots…or you.”

Brown eyes stared into pale, blue ones as the boy regarded her for a long while.  The saying may have been repeated a lot, but there was definitely more to this girl than met the eye, or in what he was previously told.  A grin spread across his face, as he now had the consolation of knowing that he no longer had to hold in his admitted frustration with his handicap.  Both teens now had someone to confide in on the whole issue.

Just then, there came another beeping sound, this time, from Teletraan-One.  Wheeling around, and with a quick crack of his knuckles, Chip began typing away.  Before Kayla could ask, he explained, “The sky spy just came back.  Looks like Teletraan just found the Seekers taking off from a power plant.”

“Better tell Prowl and the gang”, the red head replied; turning in his direction, “I think you can access his comm. from here.”

“That’s right”, the computer wiz said as he opened the tactician’s channel and sent him the message. The rest of his work went on in silence and the girl listened to the soft typing.  It was then that she remembered something, and heaving a sigh, she asked, “Chip?”

The boy turned his head, “Yes?”

Kayla shifted on her feet, knowing she was about to sound very awkward.  Her eyes darting around, she managed out, “Um…do you…need to-see to use the buttons?  Like, is there-gages to read or something…?”

The computer wiz perked an eyebrow and shrugged, “No, just the screen, but Teletraan usually announces everything that’s done anyway…why do you ask?”

Again with the nervous starts, “Well, I…I’ve-been here over a month now, and…I kinda’ feel like…I’m just sorta’-here, and-that’s it.  I mean, the ‘Bots really appreciate when I play music and stuff, but…the power of music ain’t gonna’ stop the ‘Cons.”

Chip thought back to the stories he heard about her and couldn’t help but chuckle, “I wouldn’t say that…”

Kayla managed a smile, “Okay, well…I hit it lucky that time, but I doubt pulling an El Kabong every time’ll work.”  With another sigh, she finally fessed up, “I just…wanna’ do more; earn my keep, ya’ know?  That’s why I came in here.  I was-going to ask Prowl if...he could-teach me howda’ use Teletraan-One.”

The boy stared at her in silence, and taking the quiet for uneasiness, she quickly added in, “I mean-I don’t wanna’ brag, but…I’m really good at memorizing stuff.  All I need to do is feel all the buttons, and…have someone tell me what they all do, and…gimmie’ time, and…maybe I can-help?”

“You really want to?” the computer wiz asked, and the girl nodded.  After a moment of thought, Chip smiled, “Okay; I’ll teach you.”

The red head’s eyebrows went up, “Really?”

“Sure”, he said cheerfully, “I know Teletraan like the back of my hand.  We can start right now; I don’t think it’ll be too hard.  And once Prowl gets back, I’m sure he’ll be more than happy to tutor you too.”

The musician smiled brightly, “Thanks; I appreciate that.”

“No problem”, Chip replied to his new friend.  There was another pause between the two, and he then said, “You know, with the talents we have, it’s hard to call us ‘disabled’; plenty of shades of gray.”

“Yeah…” Kayla agreed; adding in with a wry smile, “…even though I have no idea what ‘gray’ is.”  To that, the pair shared a bout of laughter, as Prowl and the team entered the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Another one of the first ideas I had for the book. If you have this blind girl, it seemed only natural to have her meet Chip Chase at some point. Mind you, I'm not handicapped, so it was hard coming up with some of the dialogue. All I wanted was just to showcase what these two characters REALLY felt about their various "situations".
> 
> If anything, this also acted as the starting point to what kind of jobs Kayla is going to do around the Ark...I mean, she can't just sit around and play music ALL the time.


	5. Nothing in the Dark

“How did I get talked into this?” Sparkplug asked; passing the same rock for a third time.

The young, blonde-haired girl trudging next to him looked equally puzzled, “Because a challenge presented itself; Kayla couldn’t pass it up, and we didn’t want to leave her by herself.”

“Can hear you”, the aforementioned teen replied; her cane guiding her through the forest brush, with her two amigos occasionally helping her.  However, if one were associated with the Autobots, then he or she would know that the “forest” was actually nothing more than an allusion; a mirage if you will.  Funny, for that was the very mech our three heroes were searching for.

In the early days of the ‘Bots residence on our planet, it quickly became clear that Earth’s terrain had plenty of drawbacks, as well as advantages compared to the entirely metal planet of Cybertron.  The pros and cons of said land would have to be familiarized as well as experimented with in trying to battle and outwit the Decepticons.  However, the heroic mechs had no desire to tear up the beautiful landscape during training exercises, much less actual battle.  Therefore, to not cause collateral damage during the tests, an alternate form of training was required.

Nature loving, hologram expert, Hound, came to the rescue, and thanks to some of Spike and Sparkplug’s old comic books, a rather inventive solution was found.  It took a few weeks to build, but eventually, the Autobots became the proud owners of the equivalent to the X-Men’s danger room.  Located in a far off corner of the Ark, this “danger room” was about as large as a gymnasium; lined with nothing but white tile all around.  A two-way mirror was the only way for onlookers in a nearby control room to see into the arena of sorts, while mechs in the room couldn’t see out.  And with just the push of a button, the plain, white room could be transformed into any earthen landscape imaginable, courtesy of the jeep’s amazing hologram projectors.  Remembering her father, who was still off in the military, Kayla couldn’t help but consider the potential this new technology could have for training our soldiers, as well as the everyday populace for anything.

Speaking of whom, the young musician was perched on Jazz’s shoulder when the saboteur entered the control room to see what his buddies were up to.  The gathered ‘Bots were just getting ready to start another one of their training missions; this one being modeled after the old game of hide and seek.  One mech, or group there of, would be given time to hide, and then they’d have to use whatever means necessary to allude the other ‘Bot or party trying to find them.  Simple enough, or so the teenager thought, causing her to ask the question of if there was a way she could play.  Naturally, her gargantuan friends were a bit put off at this strange request, especially since a blind girl was essentially asking if she could play hide and seek.  But the red head attempted to alleviate the confusion by stating that “she always enjoyed a nice challenge”, and “she had her ways”.  Jazz swooped in as her backup, explaining that despite the illusions seeming very real, all n’ all, everything in that room was still just holograms, and she wouldn’t be in any danger.

In the end, the ‘Bots decided to try it, stemming from the previous argument, and the fact that in all the time since the danger room’s creation, none of their human friends had ever been inside it, much less played a game before.  A deal was made, however; someone had to go with her.  And if she wanted to put her skills to the test, a giant robot stomping around her wouldn’t help her; the companion had to be human.  But Spike was on reconnaissance with Bumblebee, and Chip was assisting Wheeljack with his many Back to the Future-style inventions.

That left Sparkplug and Carly.  Spike had introduced Kayla to his girlfriend not long after she met Chip, and although the first meeting went fine, admittedly, the blonde couldn’t quite wrap her head around a blind person being the ‘Bots newest recruit.  But any and all previous assumptions were dashed the moment she dropped by Jazz’s quarters to say hi, and witnessed the red head playing her guitar with incredible skill.  The two girls later got to talk mano a’ mano, and the musician reassured that she understood that Spike was already taken, and only saw him as a friend.  “Besides”, she had added in, “Jazz and I click better anyway.”  Both women were on good terms after that, and even had the occasional G.N.O. (Girls Night Out).  It took a little convincing, but with nothing better to do, the younger girl and mechanic agreed to go along on this little adventure.

That led to where they were now; locked in a watered-down version of The Most Dangerous Game.  Despite trying to concentrate on the task at hand, the three humans couldn’t help but marvel at the intricate details of Hound’s illusion.  Cybertronian holograms weren’t like Earth ones; they could be heard, felt, touched; it was as real as everything else.  Only five minutes into the hunt, and the trio unanimously agreed that the jeep did a darn good job in creating this forest, right down to the lush colors, the wind and bird chirp sounds, the shadows, and the tiny, annoying bugs flying around.  The group formed a bit of a line; Carly leading, Kayla in the middle, and Sparkplug bringing up the rear; all of them determined to find the three Autobots that disappeared into the greenery.  Two of them were discovered, and now, only one remained.

Cliffjumper was the first to be caught.  Not long after the game began, Sparkplug eventually noticed the large tracks the Minibot failed to cover, and it led the group to the red mech hanging up in a tree.  Hound proved to be a bit harder, thanks in part to his green paint job camouflaging him amongst the green trees.  But with Carly’s sharp eyes, he too, was eventually found hiding in the foliage.

That left Mirage, who was by far, the most hardcore player to date.  It was to be expected; he was a spy after all.  With his Predator-like power of invisibility, he could easily get the drop on unsuspecting Decepticons, and then disappear without a trace.  With said facts in mind, the Liger held the honor of being the only mech that none of his fellow comrades could ever find when playing this game.  A select few were bound and determined to get him, but eventually, boredom would settle in, and they’d call the game quits after a while.  And the ‘Bot would relish in another mission accomplished.

Sparkplug checked his watch and sighed, “We’ve been in here for over an hour and a half.  The guy’s invisible; we’re never gonna’ find him.”

“I’m not throwin’ in the towel just yet”, Kayla said with a look of determination, “Sometimes, you just gotta’ approach things from a different angle.”

“Maybe”, Carly interjected as she glanced about, “But I’m with Mr. Witwicky on this one; five minutes, and then I’m outta’ here.”

But just as she was about to continue on speaking, the red head suddenly froze in place; held up a hand, and immediately shushed her.  The blonde and mechanic cast quizzical glances at each other, then turned back to the teenager, who stayed rooted to the spot; pale blue eyes darting about with apparent interest.  After a minute of stillness, Sparkplug whispered, “Kayla, what’s wrong?”

Without turning, the girl answered quietly, “Do ya’ hear that?”

Carly tilted her head and listened a moment, hearing nothing but birds chirping, “Hear what?”

Slowly, but surely, the musician took a few steps forward; trying to be as quiet as possible.  Needless to say, a specific sound caught her attention.  With all the patience she could muster, the teen listened intently at the world around her.  The wind wisped through the trees, making the leaves rustle in almost a rhythm.  But what had caused her alarm was this sound…or at least, the sound that came along with it.  Every now and then, she could’ve swore that during the rhythm of the rustling trees and bushes, there’d come a sudden crackle that didn’t fit the pattern…the crackle of someone stepping on leaves.

With much inquisitiveness, Kayla walked toward the sound; her friends left to wonder at what she heard, and/or where she was going.  Luckily, she didn’t have to wander very far, for the minute she began making her way through the bushes, the odd noise stopped.  A moment went by, and when the sound refused to come, the girl inhaled a deep breath and continued to listen.  That’s when she froze a second time.  Her intake of air brought an odor to her attention…smelled like…energon, and a touch of grease, along with the distinct hum of machinery…and it sounded close; real close…like it was…right in front of…

Her heart pounding, the red head swung her cane and hit something with a loud clang…something metal.  The two other humans stared at her in wonder, while her face broke into a huge grin, making her utter but one word.

“Gotcha.”

A few seconds went by, and then Mirage slowly materialized in front of her.  As he did, the whole forest seemed to melt away and disappear into the floor, leaving nothing but a white room.  The ‘Bot starred down at the teenager; flabbergasted.  Kayla merely smiled; Sparkplug and Carly looked on in amazement, and then everyone’s attention was diverted by the sound of applause.  Cliffjumper, Hound, and Jazz had entered the room; cheering, no less.  The spy glanced back at the girl and scratched his head in disbelief, “But…h-how…?”

“Told ya’ I had my ways”, the red head replied in wry humor.

Hound made his way to the front of the group, “You three put up quite the hunt.  I’m impressed.” Jazz lifted Kayla onto his shoulder, “An’ you, lil’ lady, jus’ became da’ first person ta’ ever find Ol’ Mirage.”

The girl’s eyebrows went up, “Really?”

The Liger stared at the floor, clearly downtrodden; how did that girl possibly find him?  He was perfectly invisible, wasn’t he?  And she couldn’t see-how did she do it?  Still, it’d be rude of him not to congratulate her, so after heaving a pained sigh, he stepped forward, “Erm…I have to admit…you-did perform rather well.”

But Cliffjumper could notice the sullen lilt to his comrade’s voice, “Admit it; you’re just jealous ‘cause she broke your winnin’ streak.”

“I am not”, Mirage defended, “Though I am curious”.  He turned his attention back to the victor, “I was perfectly invisible…how did you do it?”

Kayla shrugged, “My whole world’s invisible”.  She said it as if that explained everything; apparently it didn’t, judging by the awkward silence.  Chuckling a little, she further explained, “Because I can’t see, I need to use my remaining four senses to my upmost advantage; blind doesn’t mean deaf.  I smelled the grease; heard the footsteps…you’re not as invisible as you think you are.”

After a moment of thought, the spy nodded in understanding.  Now it made sense; he always went by the notion that people constantly relied on sight.  While that was true to an extent, he apparently looked the gift horse in the mouth, and overlooked the sound issue.  He was invisible to the eye; not the ear.  He’d have to take that into consideration next time.

Jazz turned to his charge with a smile, “I think dis’ calls fer’ a victory jam.  Whatcha’ think?”

“Sure!” the teen replied with an equally happy grin.  With that, the saboteur began walking out of the room with the others following close behind.  But before they got too far, Kayla turned her head behind her to address the Liger, “Sorry I broke your little record there, but just remember; your gadget makes you invisible, not mute.”

To that, Mirage actually smiled; maybe getting found wasn’t so bad after all.  He certainly learned a valuable lesson from it, “You’re right…I’ll have to remember that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Truth be told, this is actually my LEAST favorite chapter in the whole book. The plot sounded neat when I started, but I think it's the ending I petered out on. This originally was alot longer, but somehow...I don't know; what I planned originally wasn't working anymore, so I opted for a quick wrap up instead. And actually, I almost didn't upload this chapter, but the only reason I did was because it shows other areas of the Ark AND introduces Carly.


	6. Perfect

Skreeeeeee…KABOOOOM!

“WHEELJACK!”

An explosion ripped though the peaceful, afternoon quiet, jarring the Ark residents roughly into alertness, if only for a moment.  But long residence aboard the vessel taught the Autobots to ignore such sounds…at least, if they were coming from within the Ark; preferably the science lab.  And long time experience told the CMO to bring along his first aid kit when he made a dash for the said laboratory.

His judgment was in his favor.  Upon entering the lair of experiments and gadgets, he scanned the battered room for his comrade.  A haze of dust and smog hugged the floor and slowly seeped out of the open entranceway.  There came the smell of burnt metal, and the medic took a sideways glance at the charred, orange walls, some of which had gaping holes.  Several light fixtures hung down from the ceiling upon their last wires, and the floor was covered in various debris, dirt, and shattered glass.  

Reaching the back of the lab, the doctor found, what he guessed, was the cause of the ruckus.  On the side of the wall were two metal chambers, which looked like hollowed out cylinders.  Apparently, they each had a glass door of some kind at one point; no doubt they were blown off the hinges in the explosion.  A control panel sat in the middle of the two pods; smoking, melted, and wires sparking.  The ambulance then noticed the black skid mark on the floor, starting from said control panel and running across the metallic tile.  It ended off at a back wall, and smashed into this wall, was none other than the mad scientist himself.  With a frustrated sigh, the doctor knelt down next to his friend and began to fix him up.

Poor Wheeljack had been knocked unconscious…but not for long.  With a soft groan, his camera shutter eyelids fluttered open and he powered up his optics.  A red and white blur swam about his vision, clearing up to reveal Ratchet tending to his arm…and he didn’t look happy, to say the least.  Even with his mouth guard, the scientist still put on a sheepish smile as he let out a meek chuckle, “Um...hey, Ratch…”

“Before you ask, Professor Utonium”, the medic growled, “No; sugar, spice, and everything nice doesn’t create the perfect little girl; only chaos.”

The inventor pretended to sound serious, “Well, once I find out what’s in Chemical X, then I can try it.”  The remark received a bop on the head.  His handy work done, the ambulance hauled the Lancia to his feet.  During which, the scientist continued, “So, what brings you to my humble abode?”

The doctor rolled his optics, huffed, and threw his arms open to gesture to the tornado that ripped through the lab, “Savin’ your aft from the scrapheap; what else?!  Can’t you do something quiet for once?!”

“What fun would that be?” Wheeljack defended; head fins lighting up, “This is my little shop a’ creativity!”

“More like Little Shop of Horrors!” Ratchet snapped, “I’m surprised I haven’t seen jive-talking plants yet!”

The scientist tilted his head to the side with interest, “You want me to try?”

“NO!” the ambulance yelled; fed up with the jokes, “What in Primus’ name are you up to now?!”

The inventor sighed and strolled back over to his newest creation…er, well, strolled probably isn’t the best word.  It’s hard to stroll when glass and rubble is in one’s path.  More or less, he-managed to make his way over to the creation.  During which, he began, “Well, ya’ know that marathon Spike put on a few days ago, and there was that one movie called The Fly?”

The doctor thought for a moment, “Yes, but-“  His optics then widened in realization, “Oh no…”

The Lancia scrutinized his invention, “I got most of it figured out already…”

“Um…Wheeljack…” Ratchet started as he came over.

“A teleporter isn’t too different than the space bridge.”

“Jack?”

“In fact, I used all the info we had on it to try and make this.”

“Jack?”

“But I don’t understand what’s wrong.”

“Jack.”

“I’ve tried everything and nothin’ seems to work.”

“Jack.”

“Maybe I’m usin’ the wrong kind a’ test subjects.”

“Jack.”

“Do ya’ think Prowl could warrant a teleporter?”

“WHEELJACK!”

The scientist finally turned around to face his angered surgeon.  The ambulance huffed and crossed his arms; clearly, these laboratory mishaps were taking its toll on him, and this was one explosion too many for him, “You do realize that all of that was just a movie, right?”

The inventor shrugged, “Well, yeah…but they say all fantasy has some basis of truth.”

The CMO shook his head, “And the truth is, it can’t be done.”

“Who says?” Wheeljack snapped.

Ratchet glanced about the destroyed work space with frustrated optics, “I’d say your lab’d have something to say about it.”

The Lancia threw his arms open in defense, “Okay, so I had one little accident…”

“That’s the tenth ‘one little accident’ this week!” the medic barked, “And this is, by far, the worst accident I’ve ever seen in this laboratory!  You constantly get yourself blown up during your little schemes, and then I’m the one that has to patch you up again, only for it to happen again, and I’m tired of it!”

The scientist’s optics widened with a bit of hurt, “But-Ratch…”

“No, Jack”, the doctor interrupted, “No ‘buts’ this time.”  He glanced over at a nearby table; eyeing the large stacks of paper and schematics, “That pile of blue prints tells me this isn’t your first try either.  But with that many failed attempts, shouldn’t it be apparent by now that this thing isn’t going to work?”

With nothing to say, the inventor could only look at the floor, depressed.  The medic pressed on, “Sometimes, the worst mistakes are made with the best intentions.”  He then pointed to the floor, “If you really want to help us out; clean this up.  And because the surroundings are hazardous to everyone’s health and safety, it can be deemed as a medical order.”  With that, Ratchet left the room.

After a long bout of silence, Wheeljack sighed and glanced about what was once his workshop-now in shambles.  Trudging over to a nearby closet, he pulled out a Transformer-sized vacuum (yes, there was such a thing) and set to work on sucking up all the dirt and what debris he could into subspace.  Thankfully, the sweeper (which, by the way, he created) was completely silent, giving him a moment’s peace to think.  What if Ratchet was right?  This certainly wasn’t the first mishap he had in the lab, but definitely the first to cause this amount of damage.  Someone could’ve really been hurt…preferably himself.  And what about the teleporter anyway?  Even in the span of just a few days, he had already tried over a hundred times; all failures.  And now, with the melted panel, he’d have to start all over again…ugh…

“Hey!  Frankenstein!  Is the monster alive or not?” called a voice.

The scientist continued to sweep, but turned his head to see a familiar red head standing in the doorway; the black and white guitar he created for her slung on her back.  Turning back to his clean up, he muttered, “Cool it, Igor…comin’ to complain about the noise, too?”

Kayla stayed where she was at, but never the less, turned in his general direction; immediately noting the frustrated lilt to his voice.  The mech was generally happy, at least in the times she’d spoken to him.  Something really bad must have happened to make him sound all dejected.  With a look of concern, she answered, “Well, no, but…well, I was comin’ from Jazz’s quarters when I heard it, so…I just wanted to make sure you’re alright.”

The Lancia managed a chuckle, “Thanks for your concern, kid.  I-guess I’m okay; just got some heavy duty clean up to do.”

“Judging by the explosion, I can tell”, the teen replied, “So whatcha’ makin’ this time?”

The scientist groaned; slag, this was all getting monotonous, “I was tryin’ to create a teleporter.”

The girl’s unseeing eyes lit up, “Cool, just like on Star Trek.”  She then continued on a more awkward note, “Is-that what blew up?”

“Yyyyyyep”, he drawled; moving the vacuum to another dirt-ridden section of floor, “And the whole control panel got melted to slag…”

The musician knew what that meant; a complete overhaul.  Trying to sound hopeful, she asked, “Well, this is only one attempt, right?”

“Try attempt one hundred”, he snapped, “Nothin’s been workin’ at all, and that last try almost got me killed.”  The inventor heaved a sigh of frustration, “I don’t know…maybe it isn’t worth it…I should probably just send this to the scrapheap if it’s givin’ me this much trouble.”

Kayla listened to the soft hum of the vacuum as she thought.  Over a hundred tries, and still no success?  Between that, and the lab, she figured, was a mess, no wonder the guy was so depressed.  Constant failure can bring even the most optimistic down…maybe she could cheer him up somehow.  With a look of interest, she said, “Ya’ know…sometimes, listening to music makes the chores go faster; it does for me.”

Wheeljack looked to the teenager for a moment; pondering her suggestion.  No doubt she was going to supply the tunes.  Her genuine kindness was always a pleaser, as was her musical talent…and maybe it’d take his mind off his spate of bad luck, if only for a moment.  With a tiny smirk, he agreed to let her play.  Without another thought, she spun her guitar around and did a quick tune up; a befitting song long-since decided.  She began to strum a melody with practiced skill, and after a few chords, she let loose her angelic singing.

_S_ _ometimes I’m in a jam; I gotta’ make a plan_

_It might be crazy; I do it anyway_

_No way to know for sure; I figure out a cure_

_I’m patchin’ up the holes, but then it overflows_

_If I’m not doin’ too well…why be so hard on myself_

_Nobody’s perfect-I gotta’ work it_

_Again and again till’ I get it right_

_Nobody’s perfect-you live and you learn it_

_And if I messed it up sometimes-nobody’s perfect_

 

Within the first few lines of the song, the scientist had paused in his sweeping to give Kayla his full attention; the lyrics perking his interest.  His cleaning temporarily forgotten, he slowly turned the sweeper off to listen to the tune.

 

_Sometimes I work a scheme, but then it flips on me_

_Doesn’t turn out how I planned; gets stuck in quicksand_

_But no problem can’t be solved, once I get involved_

_I try to be delicate, then crash right into it_

_But my intentions are good…sometimes just misunderstood_

_Nobody’s perfect-I gotta’ work it_

_Again and again till’ I get it right_

_Nobody’s perfect-you live and you learn it_

_And if I messed it up sometimes_

_Nobody’s perfect-I gotta’ work it I_

_know in time I’ll find a way-nobody’s perfect_

 

_Sometimes I fix things up, and they fall apart again_

_I know I mix things up, but I always get it right in the end_

 

_Nobody’s perfect-I gotta’ work it_

_Again and again till’ I get it right_

_Nobody’s perfect-you live and you learn it_

_And if I messed it up sometimes_

_Nobody’s perfect-I gotta’ work it_

_I know in time I’ll find a way-nobody’s perfect_

 

The notes faded away as she finished, and the girl tilted her head in his direction with a smirk.  Wheeljack merely stared at her; she had planned on singing that probably the minute she learned of his frustration, and he knew it.  But, all the same, he had to admit, it certainly was a more pleasant reminder that nothing came without flaws.  To that, he smiled, “Nice choice, kid.”

The red head nodded as a silent “thank you”, then explained, “Ya’ know…Thomas Edison was a lot like you.  He made some pretty awesome stuff, but he had to goof up a lot first.  But he always said that none of his mistakes were failures, because every mistake just told him what not to do.”

The mech actually laughed at her little words of wisdom, but she was right.  If the first hundred tries didn’t work, then he’d just have to try again.  If there was a space bridge, a smaller teleporter wasn’t too far off.  With a renewed hope, he asked, “Why didn’t ya’ just say that in the first place?”

The girl smiled, “I like songs better…”  She then reached for her belt loop and pulled out her retractable cane (another birth child of the mad scientist), adding in, “Well, I’ll see ya’ around-pardon the pun.  I gotta’ meet Prowl and Chip for some more Teletraan-One lessons…good luck with the tidy up.”

Kayla turned on her heel and started to walk out the door.  But her steps were halted upon hearing Wheeljack call out, “Thanks for that.”

Without turning, she shrugged, “Everyone needs a pick me up.”  Her cane guiding her, the teenager disappeared down the hallway, leaving the scientist to tend to the laboratory.  But this time, instead of pitching all his blueprints, he simply laid them atop a shelf.  He’d have to look at them later and see what went wrong with the latest trial.  He didn’t want to make the same mistake twice…a teleporter didn’t build itself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Not much to say here, other than I LOOOOVE the banter between Ratchet and Wheeljack. I had alot of fun writing their argument.


	7. Another Brand of Medicine

Ratchet dumped his carving and mending tools into a large sink filled to the brim with a green, sterilization liquid.  The sound of energon sizzling away barely reached his audios, as he was more preoccupied with finding another first aid kit.  Five mechs needed to be tended to, so he’d only take time to fish out all the cleaned tools when he had none left to spare; he didn’t want to leave anyone in pain while trying to buff out a scalpel.  However, that was proving to be difficult, when a soft moan elicited from across the med bay.  Trying to keep his temper under control, the medic found another set of tools and quickly came to Sunstreaker’s side.

Jazz had been making his rounds through the city, when he picked up a distress call from an oil refinery.  A group of Decepticons were attacking the plant, causing the usual kayos and harvesting energon cubes.  While on route, the saboteur sent a call of his own, asking any nearby Autobots to come lend a hand.  When he finally did reach the destination, the cavalry arrived in Sideswipe, Sunstreaker, Cliffjumper, and Bumblebee.  The attackers turned out to be the three seekers and Soundwave (cassettes included), and all parties involved put up one heck of a fight.  Thankfully, the rag tag team of Autobots emerged victorious, leaving the ‘Cons to retreat, empty handed.  Unfortunately, our heroes weren’t left unscathed, and required a newly arrived Optimus Prime to tow his comrades, in his trailer, back to the Ark.

So here they were; confined to the med bay, and sprawled out on a row of recharge births; toughing it out while their drained physician made the rounds.  He attended to Bumblebee first, who was at the end of the row; suffering from a crumpled up chest plate.  Cliffjumper was next in line, but different ligaments were torn in his leg, and would require the most attention.  Against his better judgment, the ambulance skipped him, wanting to get the quicker fixes out of the way first, before devoting most of his time to the red Minibot.  Then, came the twins.  Sideswipe’s busted arm was repaired soon enough, but Sunstreaker obtained a mending injury, and thus had his wrist and part of his arm wrapped tightly in electrical tape; sort of the robot version of a cast, ensuring a few days off duty.  The only damage Jazz suffered was a dislocated shoulder, which was easily popped back into place.  However, he’d have to spend med bay time with his friends too, just to give his arm time to get its strength back.

With everyone else taken care of, Ratchet could finally tend to Cliffjumper.  Most of the damage was in his kneecap; a very sensitive part of the leg; robot or otherwise…and this sensitivity ensured many loud and painful cries as the doctor welded wires, replaced bolts, and various other poking.  He had to sedate the Minibot a few times to spare him the torture, and spare the patients all the yelling.  But the medic couldn’t dope him up too much, or he’d get sick.  So, after about the third tranquillizer, the injured ‘Bot was regrettably forced to lie awake and endure the pricks and stinging.  Cliff thanked Primus that the bulk of it was over, but still winced as if he were gritting teeth as Ratchet came at him with a spanner.  If there was some way to make it stop…

Just then, a voice was heard from the doorway.  In the best imitation of Bugs Bunny, the impressionist drawled, “Eeehh, what’s up doc?”

The wounded ‘Bots made no effort to sit up and see who it was; they didn’t have to; they knew that voice anywhere.  In unison, they all managed out, “Hi, Kayla.”

The teen, who was standing in the doorway, took a few steps forward; cane guiding her; guitar slung on her back; face now contorted in a more serious fashion as she spoke, “Optimus told me what happened; just comin’ to check if you guys were alright.”

Bumblebee smiled at the girl’s concern for their welfare, “Aww, we’re fine…little sore, but fine.”

“Some, a little more sore than others…” Sunstreaker added in a more annoyed tone after hearing another painful groan from Cliffjumper.

The red head listened to the humming, clanking, and sparking of Ratchet’s handy work, and the cries that came along with it; wincing all the while.  Obviously, the ambulance was very busy, and she knew better than to cross him, especially when he was still working…maybe she dropped in at a bad time.  With a bit of hesitation, she replied, “Um…maybe I better come back later…I don’t wanna’ be in the way.”

The doctor paused to rest his hands for a moment, and turned to see the girl starting to make her way out.  He regarded her for a minute, then let out a sigh.  He wasn’t prone to letting visitors in the med bay while he was operating; he couldn’t afford to have any distractions.  But in the two months she’d been visiting, the musician quickly proved her mettle amongst the Autobots and their human friends, as well as her care and courtesy.  He knew that she knew that there was a time and place for everything, which was enough convincing for him to walk over to her.  Besides, he was almost done anyway, and if Spike and Sparkplug were allowed in, why not her?

“Erm…hold on”, he said as he approached, making her stop.  Before she could turn around, he bent down and carefully scooped her up, “I’m almost finished with repairs, so you might as well come in.  Besides, you proved to be one of my better patients.”

Kayla giggled, “Thanks, doc.  But really, if I’m botherin’ ya’, just tell me, and I’ll go.”

At that point, the medic placed her atop a shelf, and explained, “In that case, I’ve set you on a shelf, so I don’t step on you as I make the rounds.  But everyone’s lying right below you, so they can see you.”  He then leaned in and whispered, “And I put you right above Jazz; it doesn’t take brains to know you came to see him.”  The girl grinned and thanked him again.  With that, the doctor returned to his grueling kneecap escapade.

The red head retracted her cane and stowed it away, then removed her guitar and carefully set it down; humming a random tune all the while.  Lying upon his berth, Jazz tilted his head back slightly to see a pair of white sneakers appear off the edge of the shelf above, followed by jean-clad legs which dangled in a playful way.  Finally, the face of his best friend appeared when she leaned over a tad; her head basked in a halo thanks to the lights above.  The saboteur shifted a little to get comfortable, being mindful of his weak arm, and smiled up at her, “Hey, Kay’; what’s happenin’?”

The teen grinned and swayed her feet, “Ahh, ya’ know; just hangin’ around.”  On the berth beside the saboteur, she could distinctly hear Sunstreaker try to suppress a groan at the pun.  Chin in hands, she continued on a more concerned note, “So…what landed you in the lair of Dr. McCoy’s cousin?”

The black and white mech tried not to laugh at her joke, “Popped ma’ shoulder, but I’m fine; jus’ gotta’ let ma’ arm rest a bit.  Maybe we kin’ jam a lil’ later.”

Kayla chuckled at the proposition, having already come fully prepared.  She patted her equally black and white instrument next to her, “Already got my new, Old Reliable tuned up and ready to go.”

Just then, the two musicians were interrupted by another painful cry.  The red head turned in the general direction of the commotion to hear Ratchet’s tinkering, as well as his familiar curses.  She then put her head down as far as she could and whispered to the Porsche, “Is that Cliffjumper?  Whatever happened, it doesn’t sound pretty.”

Said mech stole a glance down the row of the wounded, and could only see the bright white of the medic’s back; obscuring any view of the red Minibot.  Without taking his optics off the limited scene, he answered, “Slaggin’ Frenzy blew his kneecap ta’ shreds.  Poor Cliff’s been sufferin’ almost da’ whole way through.”

Another shout of distress made the teen wince; the Minibot’s cries just seemed to be begging for help.  He needed something; anything to use as an outlet for the agony.  That said, one more whine got her to her feet, and had her carefully making her way across the shelf.  The injured mechs all peeked up at the footsteps above them; some preparing to catch the girl should she accidentally walk off the edge.  But to everyone’s relief, she stayed a straight line course as she followed the pained yells, until she was seated directly above the suffering patient.  “Hey, Cliff!” she called.

The red mech’s gaze was currently on a not-too happy Ratchet and a mangled knee being poked at.  However, hearing his name, he turned his optics skyward to see Kayla sitting on the edge of the shelf.  Chin in hand, her unseeing eyes were contorted with a mix of pity and concern, while her mouth sported the tiniest prick of a grin.  All he could manage was a grunt to let her know he was looking.  Seemingly satisfied with the answer, she asked, “Why did the cookie go to the doctor?”

One of Cliffjumper’s optics widened; the equivalent of raising an eyebrow.  What kind of question was that?  “What?” he asked; clearly confused.

“Why did the cookie go to the doctor?” she reiterated.

The mech could’ve swore he heard Jazz giggling down the row; clearly, the saboteur knew something he didn’t.  His optics darted around a second, “Umm…”

The teen’s grin grew broader at the enigma she placed on him; better give him the punch line before he blew a fuse.  With a sigh, she drawled, “Because he felt crummy.”

Cliff stared off into space a moment, until he realized it was a joke.  “Oohhh…” he said, and then actually smiled; not at the pun, but more at her, for her corny attempt to cheer him up.

The musician suddenly heard the sound of a spanner warming up, but she managed to hold a mischievous grin as she shifted in her perch.  Clearing her throat, she replied, “Got another question for ya’.”

Ratchet started welding a few more transmission lines, and the Minibot twitched slightly, but he continued to stare at the teen above him, saying, “I’m listenin’.”

Kayla kicked her legs back and forth, “Why did the orange go to the doctor?”

Down the line, Sunstreaker mumbled, “To find better puns…?”

The red warrior promptly ignored the Lambo twin, “Don’t know; why?”

The teen giggled, “Because he had tangerine.”

This time, the mech actually chuckled a bit, making Bumblebee and Jazz laugh.  Meanwhile, the medic grabbed one last tool to seal up the wound, but not before taking a quick peek at the girl, then to his patient in a much lighter mood than when he came in.  A short pause, and he returned to his work. The amateur comedian sat back, resting on her hands, as she tried not to chuckle, “Okay, okay; I got one more.”

Sparks started to fly as metal was welded together, but all of Cliffjumper’s attention was on the red head.  Grinning, he said, “Alright, let’s hear it.”

Kayla sucked in a breath, “Why did the knight go to the doctor?”

“Why?” everyone asked at the same time.

With the physician in mind, Kayla couldn’t help but start to giggle.  A short pause for dramatic effect, and she answered, “Because he needed an ambulance!”

The Minibot let out another cry, but this time, instead of pain, it was one of laughter.  Sure, it was a bad pun, but with an ambulance for a doctor, he couldn’t help but find amusement at the irony of the statement.  Apparently, neither could the others.  All five patients were either laughing or chuckling right along with him.  In fact, with all the noise, he almost didn’t hear Ratchet say, “All done.”

For the first time in the past ten minutes, Cliffjumper turned his head to the doctor, “What?”

The medic shrugged, “You’re done.”

The ‘Bot blinked in surprise, “Really?”  He then looked at his previously injured knee, only to find it completely repaired.  Only then did a twinge of soreness seep back in, but certainly a lot less severe than before.  But how did it get that way?  He was in so much pain before; what happened?  Optics shifting back to the ambulance, he said in a bit of disbelief, “But…I hardly felt anything…”

To that, Ratchet sighed in relief; glad to not endure the painful yelling anymore.  He then actually smirked as he stole a glance at the teenager, “Maybe because you were distracted…”

Cliff continued to stare; completely at a loss for words of what just happened.  He followed the doctor’s gaze to the shelf above, only to find that Kayla began making her way back across to her previous seat above the saboteur.  After a moment, the Minibot smirked at her; both that, and a soft sigh as a silent “thank you”.

The teen was above Sunstreaker’s birth, when he snickered, “Oh yeah; fight pain with puns-that’s helpful.”  He swung his injured arm slightly for added effect.

The medic grimaced at him and scolded him with his “don’t mess with me or else” tone, “You have a mending injury, Sunny; don’t make it worse for both of us.”

For once, the Lamborghini shut up.  However, the girl put her head down to cast a sly grin, “Oh, look; it’s Sunny dearest.  Still all wrapped up in yourself, huh?”  At that, four roars of laughter rippled across the med bay, even the doctor chuckled.  Having to mind his arm and his physician’s wrath, Sunstreaker merely frowned and grumbled.

Sideswipe continued to giggle at his brother, “Sounds like someone’s cranky.”

“Yeah, man”, Jazz added in, “Can’t ya’ take a joke?”

“Well you’d be pretty fraggin’ tired if Thundercracker did this to ya’,” the Lambo twin snapped. Bumblebee turned to face the group with sympathy, “Come on, we’re all tired; fighting five against eight isn’t easy.”

“Agreed”, Ratchet said as he finished cleaning up his tools, “Which is why you’re all going to recharge.”

The others seemed to be down with that.  The five mechs each took comfortable positions on their respective recharge births and attempted to relax.  However, for some, it was proving difficult due to slight twinges of pain in the injured areas of their being.  So, they were content to just lie there in silence; trying to nod off.  Taking full advantage of the quiet, Ratchet plopped down at his nearby desk and started filling out reports, glancing at his comrades every now and then to make sure they weren’t causing trouble.

By that time, Kayla had sat back down in her original spot; listening to Sunny’s complaints that eventually left the med bay in silence.  Every now and then, she’d hear somebody moan softly, cough, or shift in place as they tried to get comfy, but to seemingly no avail.  It was then she was struck with an idea, after a long bout of thought.  As quietly as she could, she felt around her sitting place, and a hand laid to rest on her prized guitar.  With equal silence and grace, she placed the instrument in her lap and did a slight tweak of her earlier tune up.  Her unseeing eyes closed, and a grin starting to show, the teen began strumming a tune.

The melody was a simple, instrumental piece, yet unlike most of the songs she played in the past, this one was entirely soft…not only soft, but…serene…like the music itself was sighing in a relieved peace.  The girl’s fingers danced about the strings with practiced skill, releasing the lulling tune that slowly wafted across the room, like a gentle, afternoon breeze.

Lying on the row of berths in silence; already weary in their present state, the ‘Bots couldn’t help but gradually become entranced by the beautiful melody.  It was just…an air of serenity of which only she could provide, that brought an utter peace into everyone’s sparks.  Even Sunstreaker had noticeably sighed, and it was understandable.  The tune seemed to caress their audios, like a soft whisper washing the pain away; pulling them into a relaxing bliss.  Jazz slunk his head back a tad, letting the music happily carry him away.

Bumblebee was the only one to give voice to everyone’s opinion.  A soft smile caressed his features as his optics slowly powered down; his only sentence being a sleepy slur, “…hhhey…that music’s…sssorta’…sssssoothing…”

Down the row, Sideswipe’s optics were already powered down and closed, but with a tiny smirk, he managed to answer in agreement with a hum of, “…mm-hmm…”

From his place at his desk, even Ratchet had to stop his writing a moment to exhale a small yawn.  The only time the med bay was this quiet was when no one was in it.  That said, the doctor peeked up from his work as the last, relaxing notes faded away, only to find the most jaw-dropping sight he’d ever seen.

Every mech was far away in a deep, peaceful sleep.

The medic stared at the cute, little scene, and then at the red head sitting on the shelf above.  She had slung her guitar across her back once more, and had her chin resting in her hands; happily listening to the hum of everyone’s recharging systems.  Every now and then, one of them would sigh and shift a little; some actually smirking a tad in their sleep.  Ratchet looked on in amazement, which quickly turned to amusement when he picked up Cliffjumper’s gentle snoring.  All the while, the musician looked utterly pleased.

A sigh and a smile later, the ambulance rose to his feet and quietly snuck across the room, not wanting to arouse his comrades from the land of nod.  With much precision, he carefully lifted the teen into his grasp; stopping only once when Sunstreaker mumbled something incoherent and turned over.  The medic then strode over to the exit and set the girl on the floor; kneeling down to get closer to her level.  With a smile, he whispered, “I don’t even know what to say to that.”  A pause, and then, “Thank you…for all that.”

Kayla grinned and shrugged, “No prob’.”

The doctor regarded her a moment; a non-existent eyebrow raised, “Why did you do all that?  How?”

The girl tilted her head in his general direction as she explained, “My mom’s a nurse at the local hospital.  A lotta’ times, she helps patients with their physical therapy and stuff.”  She then cocked her head to one side, “But she learned that pain is actually a thing of the mind, as is with a lotta’ recovery.  Medicine helps, but so does human contact.  Studies have been done; it’s been proven that people actually heal faster when they're happy.  Similar thing with music; it’s proven to help-“

A loud snore from Cliffjumper interrupted her.  With a giggle and a roll of the eyes, she finished, “-calm your nerves.”

All the while during her explanation, the medic intently stared at her with perked interest.  Well this was certainly something he never tried before.  And if the aforementioned accounts were true, then not only could he save his medicine supply, but also, his comrades might not be so stubborn when getting repaired.  With a look of thought, he smirked, “You know…I have to admit, that’s a very spark-warming thing you did.  I had never considered those kinds of methods before…and it certainly made things go quicker and easier on everyone…I think you may have found your calling as a morale officer.”

The teen’s eyebrows went up, “Really?”

“Certainly”, he nodded, “It’d make for some welcoming changes around the med bay at least, if I get these results.”  A pause, and then, “If it isn’t too much trouble…is it possible you could come back here again?”

Kayla smiled, “It’s a date.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Mainly a highlight of what goes on AFTER the battles with the Decepticons, as well as the old, "laughter is the best medicine" lesson.
> 
> Please excuse the corny jokes. XD


	8. Revenge

“Come on!  Come on!  Time’s a wastin’!” Sideswipe urged; gently nudging the three humans ahead of him.

“Okay!  Okay!  We’re going!” Spike replied; trying to stay one step ahead of the nudging as the group paraded down the Ark’s orange corridors.

“Yeah, what’s the rush?” Carly asked.

But the Autobot didn’t answer; only pushed them forward more.  The spaceship’s children were enjoying some down time together in the recreation room, when the red Lambo twin approached them, explaining that he had recently discovered something very cool, and insisted they come to his quarters to see it.  What it was, he wouldn’t say; perking their interest enough to follow him.  Or rather, they walked down to his quarters, while he trailed behind.  As they walked the halls, the ‘Bot gradually became more and more impatient; giving them small pushes to pick up the pace.  Whatever this surprise was, he sure seemed excited about it.

“Thing is”, Kayla interjected as her cane made clean sweeps of the floor, “is that, I don’t have eyes to see this thingamahoosit.  Why am I here?”

The ‘Bot smirked to himself, “Ohhh, you won’t need eyes for this…”

A flash of suspicion ran through the musician’s mind, but it quickly subsided when the quartet finally made it to the Lambo twin’s abode.  After an announcement of “here we are”, the double doors swished open to reveal a pitch black room.  The three humans remained in the hall; two of them staring in confusion; the third wondering what the hold up was.  Both curious and puzzled, Spike turned to the mech, “Why are the lights off?”

Sides smiled and replied in a sincere tone, “It’s part of what makes the surprise cool.”

Carly started to take a few steps, when she turned to him and raised an eyebrow, “Aren’t you coming in?”

“Well duh; it’s my quarters”, the ‘Bot shrugged, “I’ll be right behind ya’; ladies first.”

The blonde stared back into the darkness before her, when the red head shoved her slightly, “Well, you heard the mech; come on.”

With a final sigh, the threesome slowly trudged across the threshold.  The doors swished closed behind them, and the group was plunged into darkness.  Despite the lights not coming on, they never the less moved forward, figuring Sideswipe would be trailing behind any moment to show them the surprise.

Oh…there was a surprise all right…

Spike had been leading the way, when suddenly, something came into the path of his steps and coiled around his ankle.  There was a yelp of panic, followed by the sounds of gears turning, and something squeaked overhead.  Without any other warning, there was a fast rush of cold liquid, and the kids were instantly soaked to the marrow.  Because of the inky blackness, they had no clue what the substance was, only that it smelled awful and was slimy to the touch.  That was all the more info Carly needed to begin screaming, while the other two flailed their arms around, trying to find each other amidst the bedlam that seized them.

Suddenly, there was a flash of intense whiteness, causing the two teens who had their sight to panic even more.  It wasn’t until their eyes adjusted to the familiar metallic walls that they realized that the lights came on, so with these lights, they were able to see just what had hit them.  All three humans were dripping and covered from head to toe with a mucky, stinky, brownish-black liquid.  Spike looked to his feet to see a coil lying across the floor, then craned his head to see a large bucket rigged to a simple pulley system over the door.  Carly, meanwhile, plucked a strange bump off her slimy arm, and rung out the substance on it, to reveal a soft, white object.  It was this that made them finally fathom what had occurred.

Spike, Carly, and Kayla had been tarred and feathered.

The group turned towards the doorway to see Sideswipe holding onto the doorframe, laughing his guts out.  However, the others didn’t find it too funny.  Anger building up, the musician screamed, “SIDESWIPE!”

The yelling didn’t seem to shake him.  Giggling like a mad man, the mech cried, “Go, go, gadget, wheels!”  At that, he transformed to his Lamborghini mode, burned rubber, and peeled away; his roars of laughter echoing down the hall.

That left the kids all alone to wallow in the puddle of muck; each one letting out annoyed and frustrated grumbles as they attempted to wipe off their arms and legs with little luck.  As she tried to ring out her hair, Kayla spat, “This is a base, not fraggin’ Animal House!”  Her two friends stared at her; surprised at her use of Cybertronian cuss words.  Alerted by the sudden silence, she shrugged, “What?”

“Yo!  What’s all da’ yellin’ ‘bout?” asked a voice.  The trio once again faced the doorway to find Jazz standing in the hallway.  He looked utterly vexed at seeing three children becoming dead ringers for the creature of the black lagoon.  Stepping across the threshold, he continued, “Man, what happened ta’ ya’ guys?”

Kayla tilted her head in the general direction of her best friend; annoyment plastered on her face, “We’re in Sideswipe’s quarters; need I say more?”

No, she didn’t need to say anymore; the saboteur instantly understood, causing his emotions to become divided.  On the one hand, he chuckled at the prank itself; he never saw anyone get tarred and feathered live before.  On the other hand, however, he wasn’t too pleased at who the mech picked for his victims.  All he could say was, “Our resident prankster strikes again.”

“Yeah, he struck”, Carly said in frustration as she wiped her arms, “But why would he prank us?  We didn’t do anything to him…at least, I don’t think so.”

“Doesn’t matter”, Spike replied as he plucked a feather out of his hair, “You hardly need a motive for a prank.  Rule number one; everyone’s a target.”

Hearing that statement, Kayla froze in place.

The Porsche heaved a sigh; a look of pity on his face, “Well, I guess I better go an’ find Sides ta’ get him ta’ ‘pologize fer’ all dis’.”

“It’s okay”, came a voice, making everyone else turn to the red head with utter shock.

“What?” the blonde inquired; eyes widening.

“It’s okay”, the musician said simply, “So we got a little dirty; big deal.  It made for a good laugh, and that’s all that matters, right?”

Jazz scratched his head in confusion; one minute, she was yelling, and now she was okay with it?  What made her have a sudden change of heart?  After a long pause, he drawled, “Are ya’ sure?  Ya’ know Sides kin’ get brig time fer’ dis’…”

“No, no, it’s cool”, she reassured with a smile and a wave of her hand, “I mean, it was just a prank, right?  I can take a joke, and besides, no one was hurt at all.  Let him go.”

The trio looked on at the musician as if a clone had taken her place.  How could she possibly let the mech go after this?  Both humans had their eyebrows raised; the red head of the bunch merely smiled…almost in a…mischievous way.  Finally, the saboteur let out a huff, “O-kay; if dat’s da’ way ya’ want it.”  He then addressed the whole group, “ ‘Fore ya’ do anythin’ else, go an’ see Wheeljack.  He’s got a Cybertronian soap that’ll clean you an’ ya’ clothes right up.”

With that, the black and white mech ushered the kids out of the muck puddle, and scooted them off to the science lab down the hall.  Needless to say, the scientist was a bit startled to see three, slimy creatures come trudging into his lair. But a brief explanation later, and the ‘Bot set to work on getting a human-sized bath running for each of them.  Thank God for small mercies, for the special soap did the trick in getting their clothes clean.  That way, the garments could dry next to a generator while the group washed up; ahem-all in private of course.

The results were amazing.  An hour or so later, the human trio walked out of the science lab as if the prank had never happened.  Shouting a hearty “thank you” to Wheeljack, they began the long trek back to the rec. room; each one voicing their complaints regarding what landed them in the lab in the first place.  “I still can’t believe Sideswipe would do that to us”, Carly said at one point.

“I can’t believe we fell for it”, Spike countered, “I should’ve known something wasn’t quite right”.  He then turned from his girlfriend to the red head, who looked deep in thought, “Hey, Kayla; are you sure you’re alright?  It’s not like you to take things lying down.”

Her head never turned; however, the girl’s eyes narrowed at the statement.  It seemed she was contemplating something.  Finally, after a long pause, she stated, “I’ve got some work to do on Teletraan-One.  I’ll meet you guys in the rec. room in an hour.”  With nothing else said, the musician made a memorized turn at the next intersection, leaving the young lovers alone in the corridor.

.

.

.

Spike and Carly were sprawled out on the Autobot-sized couch, relaxing in front of the large TV, when the sound of a tapping cane made them turn.  The doors had opened and closed with a swish, admitting Kayla into the room.  The boy looked to his watch as he and his girlfriend jumped to the floor below; one hour, just like she said.  The red head stopped at hearing the pair of footsteps coming toward her, and the young mechanic replied, “Okay, we’re here.  Now, what’s this meeting all about?”

The girl’s unseeing eyes darted around almost suspiciously, “Are we the only ones in here?”

Carly took a quick glance around, “Yep.  Just us…why?  What’s the matter?”

The musician leaned in, as if she were telling a dirty, little secret…and in essence, she was, “You guys were right; I don’t take things lying down, especially not after something like this happens.  A joke, I can take, but Sides went too far.”

The boy raised an eyebrow, “So…all that stuff you said…”

“-was just a front”, the girl finished, “Couldn’t let anyone on to my little plan.”

The blonde cast a quizzical glance, “…what plan?”

A devious grin appeared on Kayla’s face, “My mom has to work late tonight…which means I get to stay here longer…”

“And…?” Spike prodded.

The red head let out a brief chuckle, “That ‘work’ on Teletraan-One I said?  It was to find out everyone’s duty shifts…Sides is in recharge right now…and he won’t be up ‘till morning…”

Two pairs of eyes widened as realization sunk in; she couldn’t be serious, could she?  No one had dared prank the prankster, mainly because he was almost always one step ahead.  Could it even be done?  But hearing the girl’s words, they realized that no one hardly had any success because they never tried while he was asleep…a time when he’d be caught off guard…the perfect, and probably only time to strike.  Well…what the heck, why not?  Besides, she did have a point; after all of the Lambo twin’s practical terror on everyone, maybe it was high time he got a taste of his own medicine.  It’d certainly make for a good laugh if they could pull it off.  The teen didn’t have to ask if they were in or out; the duo answered by letting loose a burst of excited giggles.

Kayla smiled; her face giving off an air of delighted mischief, “Grab a walkie-talkie.  We’re gettin’ revenge; old school style!”

.

.

.

Afternoon began to turn to dusk, and with it, brought an air of quiet to the Ark’s many corridors as various mechs turned in for the night; a certain prankster included.  Thank goodness for said peace, for it made Carly’s trip to the Lambo twin’s quarters all the more easier.  Coming up to the doors, she gave a quick glance around, before fishing out a small communicator from her pocket.  Looking as nonchalant as she could, she flipped the device open and whispered, “Black Canary to Armada team; over.”

A second went by, then Kayla’s voice crackled over the line, “It’s Cobra.  I’m Cobra Commander, remember?”

The blonde rolled her eyes, “Whatever…look, I’m at Big Red’s room.  Are you guys ready?”

Off in the café, the musician was leaning against a wall as Spike climbed a ladder to reach the table above.  Walkie-talkie in hand, she teased, “We were born ready…okay, you got your supplies.  Complete phase one, then meet us at the car wash.  The foxes are on the move.”

A pause, then a puzzled, “Huh?”

The red head sighed, “It means we’re going in”.  With that, the girl shoved the radio back in her pocket, then followed the boy’s muffled shouts; pulling a bottle of something out from under her arm.  After some quick directions and a careful throw, the young mechanic caught the bottle and hurried over to the energon dispenser.

Back in the aforementioned hallway, the blonde quietly snuck into Sideswipe’s quarters with the stealth of a ninja; pocketing her communicator in exchange for her lipstick…

.

.

.

The next morning, Sideswipe awoke from his peaceful recharge; stretching out a few kinks as he did.  With a tired yawn, he slowly rose from his berth; being careful not to disturb his brother sleeping in the bunk overhead.  More energon for him then.  He trudged to the door as quietly as possible; taking into account that he had yet to take down the bucket that so graciously slimed his human associates the other day.  Apparently, they must have taken the harmless joke surprisingly well, for no one had hounded his back once; demanding answers.  Well…all except Sunstreaker, who was none too pleased at the muck puddle it left; half of the quarters was his after all.  Oh well…he cleaned up the mess, his prank worked, and for once, he wasn’t spending his video game time down in the brig.

At that point, the mech was already halfway down the corridor; the welcoming thoughts of a hot cup of energon flooding his CPU.  He was going to need it if he planned on getting through the early morning shift alive.  As he paraded the halls, he was soon passed by many of his comrades…and past prank victims.  “Hey, Hound”, he waved.

The jeep looked up from the data pad in his hand, and was about to give a hearty “hello” of his own, when his optics widened and his jaw went slack.  The Lamborghini continued onward, not noticing that his comrade stopped dead in his tracks and swiveled his head to watch him go down the hall.

Ah, the café doors; almost there.  He spotted Bumblebee and Brawn a little ways ahead; both of them leaning against the wall, talking.  However, when the two Minibots looked up at the approaching footsteps, they instantly paused the conversation to gape.  As the Lambo twin trudged past, the Volkswagen Beetle quickly put a hand over his mouth as he began to giggle.

The cafeteria was filled with a fair amount of Autobots as they sipped their morning energon; chatting away about recent news, new fight moves, and what have you. A few could be heard trying to yawn away their grogginess; mumbling about their yearnings to go back to recharge.  All n’ all, it was just another sleepy, uneventful morning.

Until Sideswipe came swaggering into the room…

“Mornin’ guys”, the Lambo twin greeted.  The gathered mechs turned to address him, when they were stricken by a most…interesting sight.  Every face gave way to surprise, much like Hound, Brawn, and Bumblebee, and soon, many were fighting valiantly to suppress excited chuckles.

But the mech in question barely noticed as he made a beeline for the energon dispenser.  With a relieved sigh, he grabbed a cup and filled it practically to the brim with the pinkish liquid he craved so much.  Bringing the mug to his lips, he tilted his head back and took a large gulp.

The second the substance hit his mouth, his optics widened in a panic, and his head shot forward; spitting out every drop of energon in a rush.  The others took a startled jump back, as Sides began coughing into the nearby sink; his cup practically smashed on the counter.  After a minute or so of spitting up, the mech grabbed his mug and cast an angry, befuddled, death glance at the pink liquid, “What the frag?!  What is this stuff?!”  A closer inspection revealed the energon seemed a tad pinker than it usually was…and after a sniff or two…it smelled-kinda’ like…hot sauce…?

Just then, someone in the crowd giggled, causing the Lambo twin to look up.  The whole room had suddenly gotten very quiet, save for a few muffled chuckles, and he finally realized that everyone was staring at him.  His optics darted around as if to say, “What?”  It was then that Jazz, who was standing nearby, took Sideswipe by the shoulder and led him over to a mirror, hanging on the opposite wall.  The saboteur could barely contain himself as the Lambo twin finally saw his reflection…and froze.

Let’s just say that the fire engine lipstick, pink blush, crystal blue eye shadow, and mascara moustache that adorned his face ensured a win in the next beauty pageant.  Before anyone knew he was gone, Sides bolted from the room.

The Lambo twin scurried down the halls in utter panic and deep embarrassment; an echoing trail of uncontrollable laughter right on his heels.  At that point, more ‘Bots were beginning to crowd the corridors, causing him to have to cover his face with his arms as best he could; shielding himself from further humiliation.

At long last, he arrived back at his quarters and practically leaped into the sanctuary from prying optics.  The prankster leaned against the wall in a huff and tried to think.  Who could’ve done this?  How?  His brother?  He quickly glanced over to the bunk beds and found Sunstreaker missing; guess he went to get a quick bit…or, he was trying to avoid him, if he was the culprit.  After heaving a sigh, Sideswipe trotted to his little, personal bathroom.  He’d have to play Sherlock Holmes later; first things first-get this slaggin’ make up off!  With that, the mech got the water running in the sink and reached for the soap.  A good lather or two later, and he was scrubbing away at his face, trying to wash away the embarrassment.  He then stared intently at the mirror to see if his rinsing did the trick.

Oh, it did the trick all right…but not the trick he was hoping for.  Instead of meeting a squeaky clean face, he stood gaping into the shocked optics of a horrified specter.  Only when he touched his chin did he then realize that the specter was himself!  Gone was the grayish, metallic face; in was one of bleached white.  The Lambo twin gasped in fright.  Whatever was in that soap, coupled with the make up incident, now made him look like a pale imitation of The Joker.  Now what?

Just then, the red Lamborghini was struck with an idea; the car wash!  A quick spray from the water jet blasts ought to get him clean!  That said, the mech left his room, but not before taking a quick glance around to ensure he was truly alone.  When the coast was clear, Sides made a mad dash down the hallway; thanking Primus the showers weren’t too far away.  Once he was spick and span, he’d find out who was behind all this, one way or another.  He was already formulating a list of suspects when he made it to the carwash, and thankfully, without incident.  Arriving at his personal stall, he wasted no time in pushing the button, and began spraying his clown face…heck, why not just his whole body for good measure?  He proceeded to do just that.  After a good long minute of rinsing, the Lambo twin finally opened his optics, shut the water off, and heaved a sigh as he went to a nearby mirror.  That ought to have done it…

But no sooner did he see his reflection, he let out a yell at the unfairness of it all.  Instead of seeing a shiny, Joker-face-free Lamborghini, he was met with the sight of a rainbow-colored, prank victim.  Even his own shower hadn’t been spared the mockery.  Someone must have put food coloring, or dye, or something in the water tanks, for his bright red paint job now sported ugly splotches of green, blue, yellow, and purple.  Letting out a frustrated growl, the mech banged his head against the wall; what kind of sicko would do this?  His head hung low, the prankster trudged out the back end of his stall; mustering up the courage to face the peanut gallery…could this morning get any worse…?

The second his foot left the stall, something came into the path of his steps and coiled around his ankle.  There then came the familiar sound of gears turning, and something squeaked overhead.  Without any other warning, his head and shoulders were instantly bombarded by a rush of cold liquid, and he yelped in shock.  When he finally came out of his funk, he slowly wiped his shoulder and inspected a hand that was dripping with a stinky, slimy, black muck; coupled with white…oh no…it couldn’t be…it could…

Tar and feathers.

There then came the sound of roaring laughter, and Sideswipe looked up to see that his fellow Autobots had gathered in the doorway to witness the humiliating spectacle.  Every last mech was either leaning against the doorframe, or holding their sides as they gasped for air; a few faces leaking optic fluid.  The sight was just too hilarious!

Sides wanted nothing more than to be like Mirage and disappear.  He let out an embarrassed groan, and was about to turn away, when his optics suddenly darted to the floor.  Among the crowd of ‘Bots, three human children were also present; standing by their feet and huddled together, chuckling.  It was then that realization hit…tar and feathers…yesterday’s prank…

The previously red mech pointed at the human trio and growled, “You!”

Despite the threat, Kayla continued to laugh, “Uh oh.  Go, go, gadget, feet!”

With that, Spike and Carly darted away; grabbing the musician by both hands and pulling her with them, while those in the way stepped aside so an angry, muck-covered Sideswipe could give chase.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: I LOOOOOVE me some ol' fashioned practical jokes! And originally, I was going to explain how the humans pulled off the prank, but the more I tried to write it in, the more I realized it was funnier if it was just left up to the reader's imagination.


	9. Scratch

The cheerful rays of a golden yellow sun shone down to cast a large city in a gleaming dazzlement.  However, despite the beauty of this bustling metropolis, two of its denizens were more interested in heading to the rather unglamorous strip district.  It may have seemed a bit dirty, dark, and small to most eyes, but our two, favorite musicians knew very well that this end of town harbored a beauty that most would miss.  That beauty, was the diverse, enchanting, sultry sound of music…and the duo was about to get a big taste of it.

It was around noon time that a stylish, blue, black, and white Porsche parked in front of B&W’s Music Center.  The Autobot in disguise could barely contain his excitement as he undid Kayla’s seatbelt.  The teenager had told her friend of the fun times she’d have in the store in question, and now Jazz just had to check the place out.  However, that meant the saboteur was going to do something he hadn’t done in ages; make his holo-human leave his car form.  The teen knew very well the task was very taxing, and her concern didn’t go unvoiced, “Are you sure this isn’t going to drain you too much?  I know it’s kinda’ hard to leave your car for a while.”

The Southern voice drawled through the speakers, “Nah, I’ll be fine.  Now c’mon; I always wanted ta’ go in ‘ere!”  That said, the red head opened up her cane and slid out of the cab, but this time, a warm and gentle hand took her by the arm.  She shuddered a bit, nearly forgetting that Cybertronian holograms were practically the real deal, but soon, she leaned into the embrace; not caring what form he was in-a friend’s a friend.

Jazz smiled as he led his charge to the door.  True, the illusion wasn’t real, but this was as close to being human as he could get, and he was down with that.  To everyone else, he was as earthy as could be.  He was thin, but defined; about age 20, with a face resembling of a young, Louie Armstrong.  His dark skin and short, black hair was accompanied by jet black sunglasses that rested low on the bridge of his nose, revealing deep blue, friendly eyes.  Clothing-wise, he wore a white T-shirt, black pants with a blue belt, and white sneakers with blue laces.  All n’ all, his entire image screamed “cool”.

Actually…the store itself seemed pretty cool.  Although there were no windows, save for the door, the entire front wall was bedecked with a painted collage of famous singers and musicians.  Everyone from Ray Charles, to Henry Mancini, to John Williams, to the Beatles; they were on there; each one captured playing instruments or conducting; frozen at the pinnacle of their careers.  The now-human saboteur stared for a long while at the portrait, in awe of its beauty, and let out a sigh as he thought, “Kayla deserves ta’ be up der’ wit’ ‘em…”

Said teen broke the silence, “I take it you like the painting?”

“It’s swingin’!” he grinned as he looked to his charge.

“This place is a family-owned business”, she explained, “Mr. White’s dad’s the one who drew it.”  The girl continued to smile, but her head dropped slightly, “Too bad old age took him…woulda’ loved to meet him.”

Jazz gave a solemn nod; he would’ve killed to see the artist as well…but she didn’t seem upset, so his passing must have happened way before she was born…still… “Mr. White?  Is dat’ da’ store owner now?”

“Yep”, the red head cheerfully replied, “And I want you to meet him.  If you think the outside is cool, wait ‘till you get inside.  That’s where all the fun stuff happens.”

That got the two musicians up and through the front door.  Upon entering, the saboteur had to stop for a second time to scope out the musical wonderland.  There were hundreds of shelves lining the walls; each one filled to the brim with CD’s, then cassette tapes further back, and finally, vinyl records in the very back of the store.  Within the large, island section, various instruments ranging from guitars, to drums, to trumpets, to every kind of violin, and a piano, were on display; polished to perfection in all their sound-inducing grandeur.  Finally, there was the walls themselves.  Whichever spots weren’t touched by the many shelves, the blank void was filled with a poster of some kind; every last one being for some kind of singer or band.  Even the ceiling hadn’t gone unnoticed, for it was painted to look like a sheet of music paper; complete with the horizontal lines, G-Clef starting each bar, and notes dotting every line and space.  It was then that the Autobot nearly melted into a puddle; this place was a musician’s dream!

He was pulled out of his funk when Kayla gently tugged at his arm; motioning him to follow her.  A few taps and motions with her cane, and the girl maneuvered easily around the storage units.  To Jazz, it was no surprise; if this was her usual hangout, besides the Ark, it made sense she’d have this place committed to memory as well.  Whistling a tune in her high spirits, the teen led her friend to the back of the establishment, where a desk that had seen better days awaited them.  Seated behind said desk was an older gentleman; probably early 50’s, with a neat moustache and a mop of brown hair that was graying on the sides.  He must have had a bald spot, however, for a black bandana adorned his head; one that sported the light prism symbol for Pink Floyd’s Dark Side of the Moon.  With a faded green shirt and brown vest (must have been from the hippie generation), his worn out jeans and black boots became visible when he propped his feet up onto the desk and kicked back in his chair.

A powder blue guitar was perched in his lap, and the man was happily strumming away; his eyes blissfully closed.  So naturally, Kayla and Jazz’s entrance went unnoticed.  The two merely stood there; both smiling as they chose to remain quiet and listen to his playing, as his aging voice tried to sing the opening tune to a classic television series.

 

_Here we come…walkin’ down the street_

_Gettin’ funniest looks from…everyone we meet_

_Hey, hey, we’re the Monkees_

_And people say we monkey around_

_But we’re too busy singin’_

_To put anybody down_

_We’re just tryin’ to be friendly_

_Come and watch us sing and play_

_We’re the young generation_

_And we got somethin’ to say_

_Hey, hey, we’re the Monkees_

_You never know where we’ll be found_

_So you better get ready_

_We may be comin’ to your town_

 

With the notes fading away and the song finished, the saboteur clapped for the impromptu performance; startling the store owner out of his revere and making him nearly tip over in his seat.  During the excitement, Kayla attempted her best Ed Sullivan impression, and drawled, “And now, the oldest hep cat from Liverpool, Mr. Billy Ray White!”

The girl’s delivery finally made the older man realize who had surprised him, and he burst into a huge grin, “Welly, well, well; my favorite customer returns!”  He gently set his guitar aside and practically hopped the counter; giving the teen a friendly hug, “Haven’t heard from ya’ in a while.”

The red head shrugged, “Well, I-was just making some new friends lately.”  Inside, she was chuckling; if he only knew…

The statement made Mr. White happier, “Good!  Good!  You can never have too many friends.”

The human Autobot looked on at the exchange with an amused smirk.  Between the stories she’d told him, and what he just witnessed, it wasn’t rocket science that these two were long time buddies.  He perked his head up more when Kayla motioned in his direction; addressing the store owner, “Speaking of whom, I’d like to introduce you to my best friend, Jazz.”

“Pleasure ta’ meet ya’”, the saboteur greeted as he extended his hand.

The man gingerly took the offered hand for a shake; giving the newcomer a once over fairly quickly.  He seemed pretty tidy and polite enough, but the warm smile and caring blue eyes spoke enough words; all positive.  The older musician knew that look anywhere, thanks to 50 years experience.  He proceeded to smile even bigger, “Jazz, huh?”  A chuckle, and then, “I like him already.  Worked the turntables in ’89, so everyone calls me, Scratch.”

The ‘Bot hummed a laugh and stole another glance around the shop, “Gotta’ love da’ swingin’ pad ya’ got.”

Scratch crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow, “Well, thanks, but when my old man first opened this place, you’d be sayin’ this is a groovy and far out pad I got.”

Jazz enjoyed a belly laugh at that statement; intrigued also by this sudden lesson in past, Earth culture.  His eyes then layed to rest on the powder blue instrument, leaning against the back wall behind the desk.  “Is dat’ your guitar?” he asked; pointing at it.

The owner’s chest puffed out with pride, “You better believe it!  Actually, it was my dad’s; played it during Woodstock ’69.  He taught me how to play, and I’ve been keepin’ the family history goin’.”

“And”, Kayla said with a smile; pointing in Scratch’s general direction, “It was this man that taught me how to play.”

The saboteur’s eyes went wide and mouth agape in excitement.  It was then that he remembered that she’d mentioned this little tidbit before, but never knew her mentor by name, only as “my buddy at the music store”.  And now, here he was; the man who had essentially started it all!  “Really?!” was all he could say.  The man nodded and the ‘Bot continued, “Aww, man!  Whatever your secret is, it definitely worked!  I never heard a more talented player or beautiful singer ‘fore in ma’ life!”

The red head blushed at the comment, while Scratch chuckled and sighed as he glanced at her, “She mighta’ got her 88 fingers from me, but all her spirit and gumption, she gets from her old man.”

The teen was now beet red and scuffing her shoe on the floor, “Aww, come on…”

The owner’s grin faded slightly as his voice, surprisingly enough, took on a more serious lilt, “That reminds me; how is your father doin’ anyway?”

A look of thought came over her as she scratched her head, “I’m not sure…the last letter I got from him said that he and his men were being shipped off somewhere…musta’ been a last minute thing, ‘cause he was supposed to be getting shore leave soon.”

The older musician nodded, as he too, knew of her dad’s captain position in the army, “Well…when he does call, you just tell him we’re all thinkin’ about him.”

“Second dat’,” Jazz added in.

Kayla smiled once more; humbled by her friends’ sympathy for her, “Thanks…”

“Hey, no prob’,” Scratch shrugged, “It’s what buds do.”  As he said this, he started to make his way back behind the desk.

Remembering the song he had barged in on earlier, Jazz asked, “So, I take it yer’ into da’ Monkees?” The man took a seat and motioned to his store wide collection of melodies, “I’m into a lot of things.”  He then raised an eyebrow, “What about you?  What’s your preference?”

The saboteur smirked as he put his hands in his pockets, “If it’s gotta’ beat, I like it.”

Scratch nodded and rubbed his chin, “Kayla’s told me a little bit about you.  But how come you haven’t been able to come until now?”

The music junkie had to think for a second.  It was now obvious that the red head hadn’t told her buddy that he was an Autobot, so until they could discuss the matter privately, he’d keep it that way.  But now, how to answer the question?  Remembering that this guy was a musician himself, the ‘Bot opted for a more clever approach.  With a tilt of the head, he answered, “Well, I missed da’ last train ta’ Clarkesville, so I had ta’ take da’ long an’ windin’ road.”

At that moment, the owner busted a gut; slapping his knee as he laughed.  He hadn’t expected this aquatience to answer him with two song references; one by the Monkees, the other by the Beatles.  He then gave the young man another stare.  He looked to be in his mid 20’s, yet he made references to songs and bands that were way before his generation.  It was clear this guy had a respect for the oldies too; not just some constant MTV watcher…whoever his parents were, they certainly did him justice in naming him “Jazz”.  When Scratch finally composed himself, he drawled, “I like you.  It’s not often I get a young who’s into old.  We need more people like that.”  The owner then glanced around, “In fact…we need more people here; period.”

Kayla gave a look of concern, “What do you mean?”

The older musician heaved a sigh, “Well…so many peeps now a ‘days can just download all the music they want on their IPods and stuff, you almost don’t need music stores anymore.”  A pause and then, “But most of the songs are fairly new; there aren’t many who’re lookin’ for old stuff, and a lot of the old ones-I mean like the 50’s and older-aren’t even available.  Some songs, you can only find on cassette or vinyl, but no one hardly wants that anymore…and there’s pleasure to be had in old fashioned.”  His eyes seemed to bore into the desk, “Business is startin’ to come to a stand still…there’s gotta’ be some way to bring the new generation in; show em’ how it started.”

Jazz scratched his head as he pondered the man’s predicament.  As a music lover, there was no way he would let a place like this be lost in the masses that seemed to dismiss the lore of yesteryear.  He could see Kayla was mulling over it as well.  He may have known the guy for all of about 15 minutes, but already, the saboteur felt a dire need to help him.  This guy was fighting to save a previous generation of music, and darn it, he was going to help, one way or another.  After what seemed like an eternity, the ‘Bot snapped his fingers as an idea came to him, “Say, maybe a show a’ some kind might attract da’ crowd.”

A sparkle came to Scratch’s eyes, “You know, that’s not a half bad idea.”  He proceeded to stand up; put one foot on the desk, and point his finger up in the air; doing a few moves reminiscent of Saturday Night Fever, “All I need to do is dust off my old routine.”  Jazz, however, stared at the man as if he’d gone crazy; shocked by this dancing display he’d never seen before.  The man, in turn, stared at the saboteur and explained, “Son, when I was your age, I caught a nasty bug called disco fever…”

At that point, Kayla was shaking her head and laughing, “Scratch; disco’s dead…and if anything, a 50-somethin’ guy wearing platform shoes and dancin’ a jig’ll scare people away.  We’re tryin’ to drum up business, not make em’ blind like me.”

Jazz chuckled, “Yeah, well, I was thinkin’ more along da’ lines of a music performance.  You guys kin’ both play guitar; maybe if ya’ put on a concert or somethin’.  Hearin’ music live’s a whole ‘nother ball game.”

“Yeah…” the owner nodded.  He then turned to the red head, “Kayla; you wouldn’t mind comin’ down here to play, would ya’?  You’re one of the best guitarists out there, and it’d really help the store a lot.”  Although he hated to make her sound like a carnival act, he had to admit, however, that a blind guitarist would be big news in the neighborhood.

The musician smiled warmly, “Of course I’ll do it.  Anything to help you out.”

Scratch’s hands made a clap in excitement, “Great!  Of course, it’ll take me a while to spread the news, so this concert probably ain’t happenin’ for a few weeks, but I’ll give you the date as soon as I know.”

His two compadres nodded in agreement.  It was then that Jazz stole a glance at his watch, “Well, I hate ta’ bail on ya’ man, but we gotta’ get goin’.  It was nice meetin’ ya’.”

“Nice to meet a fellow music junkie too”, the older man smiled, “I’ll see you guys.  Take care.”

With that, Kayla gave a good bye as Jazz took her by the shoulder and led her out.  As soon as she was safe and buckled up, the Porsche took off down the street; the radio softly humming a soft rock station.  A few minutes into the drive back to the Ark, and the ‘Bot replied, “Thanks fer’ introducin’ me der’; I had a great time.”

“I knew you would”, the girl grinned as she settled into the seats, “Scratch’s really nice guy…he may be a bit eccentric, but he wasn’t born yesterday.”

There was a pause, and then the saboteur asked, “Um…you’re gonna’ tell him I’m an Autobot at some point, right?”

The red head thought for a moment, for this same question was on her mind long before.  Finally, she shrugged, “Probably…but not yet.  I don’t wanna’ scare the pants off of him…besides, he’s weird enough already.”

“Gotta’ point”, the ‘Bot reasoned.  To that, both Jazz and Kayla shared a fresh batch of laughter as he revved up the decibels on the stereo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: And so enters a NEW character of my own creation; wacky store owner, Scratch! Granted, he's not going to show up alot, since this is Kayla's story, not his, but I figured we needed to find out where she learned to play guitar. But, he WILL show up again!


	10. May I Have This Dance?

_It’s peanut butter jelly time!_

_Peanut butter jelly time!_

_PEANUT BUTTER JELLY TIME!_

_PEANUT BUTTER JELLY TIME!_

 

“Blaster, will you STOP with that annoying song?!” Ratchet barked from across the lounge.

The aforementioned mech pointed to the girl sitting next to him, “Hey, she told me to play it!”

To that, Kayla could only laugh as the ‘Bot resumed playing the Black Eyed Peas’, “Get It Started”; albeit at a much lower volume.  The Autobots received a string of victories within the past week, and the ever-logical Prowl had reasoned that the Decepticons would lay low for a while because of it.  With the promising peace came plenty of free time for our heroes, and free time plus a lot of mechs with it meant one thing; PARTY TIME!

So here they were; a good majority of the ‘Bots relaxing and having fun together in the recreation room.  Presently, Kayla was seated atop a control panel; now a turn table, thanks to Blaster.  Since the mech decided on being the DJ for the evening, the teen opted to leave her guitar in Jazz’s quarters this time.  Speaking of whom, the saboteur had apparently gone off to talk with Optimus Prime, so the girl had to sit and wait for her friend to return.  But the wait certainly wasn’t boring, thanks to said company.

Just then, the automatic doors opened with a swish, and the Porsche walked in.  There was a bit of a skip in his step as he sort of half danced in time to the beat of the music.  Cranking up the volume a few notches, the DJ once again switched songs; this time to note the ‘Bot’s arrival.

 

_I’m Slim Shady; yes I’m the real Shady_

_All you other Slim Shady’s are just imitating_

_So won’t the real Slim Shady please stand up?_

_Please stand up?  Please stand up?_

 

The black and white mech chuckled as he approached, “Very funny, man.”

The teen wasn’t about to miss out on the joke either; adding in, “Wow…Jazz is the real Slim Shady?  Who would’ve guessed?”

The two musicians shared a laugh as the mech, with great care and gentleness, picked the girl up and placed her on his shoulder.  After a friendly nod to Blaster, he turned to his charge, “Let’s go see what da’ guys are up to.”

With that, the Porsche started to make the rounds; being careful how he walked so as not to make his friend lose her balance on her perch.  No sooner did he begin his trot, she asked, “If you don’t mind me askin’, what were you talking to Optimus Prime about?”

“I was jus’ askin’ him if he was comin’ ta’ da’ party is all”, Jazz explained, “But he said, no.”

Kayla raised an eyebrow, “That’s weird.  I thought everyone liked parties.  Even the leader needs to catch a break.”

The saboteur chuckled as he thought about it, then reasoned, “Well, I guess parties like dis’ aren’t really his thing.  I think he’s more in ta’ readin’ when he relaxes.”

The teen nodded her head in understanding, having learned that bit of information from her discussions with Optimus.  Still, it didn’t seem right for someone to be alone while everyone else was together, having fun.  She made a mental note to try and get the leader to join in the next party that came around.  For now, she was content to hang with her best friend and make small talk with the fellow party goers.  The young musician was happy to find out that Wheeljack had made progress on his teleporter (no doubt her little song did the trick), and that Prowl had complimented her on her advances in using Teletraan-One (he didn’t come for the party-just passed through).

It was then that a chorus of cheers and boos erupted from a corner of the rec. room, causing Jazz and Kayla to investigate.  Across from Blaster and his booming speakers, a few tables and chairs had been set up.  However, only one of those said tables were actually occupied.  A group of mechs, consisting of Ratchet, Sideswipe, Sunstreaker, and Bluestreak, were seated in a circle; all laughing.  But no sooner did the Porsche approach, did he realize that the laughter wasn’t necessarily due to a joke of some kind. His visor quickly darted to the many energon containers littering the floor, and then to the pinkish-purple cubes in his comrades’ hands…these guys were drinking-a lot.

“Heeeey, if it ain’t our-buddy”, Sideswipe greeted in a sing-song voice.  The others gave an absent wave of their own.

The girl giggled as she leaned in towards the saboteur and whispered, “Sounds like these guys aren’t playing with a full deck of cards; better just humor ‘em.”

“Right, right…” the mech agreed with a half grin.  He then made his voice audible for his friends, “So, um…whatcha’ up to?”

“Wassit’ look like?” Sunstreaker slurred as he blearily rubbed his optics, “Gotta’ saaaunge-wister…”

The red head leaned forward a bit; a quizzical look on her face, as she tried to translate his high grade-induced speech, “Um…did you say, ‘tongue-twister’?”

“ ‘Sa game”, Ratchet explained, or as best he could in his present state anyway.  His optics, which had turned very pale, never left the table as he continued, “Gotta’ sayrrhyme…get it wrong-take a drink.”  With great effort, the medic finally turned his head towards the Porsche and pushed a canister forward, “Wanna’ join us?”

Jazz stared at the doctor’s offering a moment, then stole a glance at the girl on his shoulder.  Although she was still smiling, her body had noticeably tensed up a tad, while her head was tilted slightly in a gesture that seemed to say, “tsk, tsk, tsk; for shame”.  After a thought or two, the black and white mech finally shook his head, “No thanks, man.  Maybe ‘nother time.”  Normally, he would’ve taken the glass and grabbed a seat, but the saboteur understood that there was a time and place for everything.  He may have been a fun-loving mech, but contrary to popular belief, he didn’t simply take a drink every time it was offered.  He enjoyed a toast among friends every once in a while, but he knew when enough was enough.  Plus, and most importantly of all, he had a lady with him, and blind or not, it wouldn’t be very gentleman of him to get intoxicated in her presence.

But as Jazz peered across to the table next to them, apparently, the same rules couldn’t be said for Spike and Carly, who were standing on the nearby table top; bearing witness to the Happy Hour game.  Although they weren’t noticeably appalled, the two teens still looked a little vexed.  The Porsche scooted over a step, then leaned in to ask, “I didn’t see ya’ there at first.  Whatcha’ guys doin’ ‘ere?”

“Don’t have much of a choice”, Carly started, “They’re really drunk and we can’t get down.”

“Get down?  You mean you’re stuck on a table?” Kayla asked for confirmation.  When the pair yelled a “yes”, she continued, “Howja’ guys get up there?”

“Bumblebee”, Spike explained, “He was with us, but when Blaster started playing ‘Sweet Little Bumblebee’, he kinda’ disappeared…guess he got embarrassed.”

The red head couldn’t help but laugh at the explanation, but then she assured them, “Don’t worry, I don’t think Bee would abandon ya’; he’ll be back.”

“Oh, we know”, the blonde added in, “Besides, we got this to bide our time.”  She motioned to the group of tipsy mechs for emphasis.

Just then, Sideswipe spoke up, “Okay…who’sext?”

Bluestreak raised his hand, then put both hands on the table and slowly pushed himself out of his seat.  But judging by the six empty glasses surrounding him, this was a feat in and of itself.  The poor mech stumbled a few times, before the twins finally managed to get a hold of his door wings for support.  When he steadied himself at last, he managed out, “Okay, um…w-wa-whawasa rhyme again?”

Ratchet slapped his forehead in exasperation; instantly regretting the action with a painful wince.  Letting out a sigh, he mumbled, “Jack and Jill, Blue; Jack n’ Jill.”

The mech in question gave a blank stare, before he vaguely remembered, “Oh, right…right…”  A few blinks and missteps later, the gunner was about to start, when he asked, “Whyrthey goin’ up a hillagain?”

The group let out a groan, and Sunstreaker nudged him, “Who cares?  Now say it.”

Bluestreak nodded, “ ‘Kay, okay…d-don’t rush me.”  Rubbing his optics, he wearily started, “J-Jack…Jack-be nimble; Jack, be quick…”

At that moment, everyone at the table, and the four person audience, burst out laughing.  The young mech glanced around; clearly confused as to what was so funny.  Finally, it was Jazz, of all people, who cared to elaborate, “Blue; ya’ had ta’ say Jack n’ Jill; dat’s Jack n’ da’ Candlestick, man!”

The gunner didn’t seem to care, “Hey-it had ‘Jack’ in it…”

“Doesn’t matter”, Sideswipe said as he grabbed another full glass and shoved it in the loser’s face, “It’s still wrong.  Now drink up.”

With that, Bluestreak fumbled with the container as he took it from his comrade and attempted to down it.  But the mech barely got it to his lips, when he let out a groan and gurgled a hiccup.  Before the twins could get a firmer grip on him, the gunner’s legs gave out on him, and he collapsed to the floor; hiccupping and taking his two, living support beams with him.  The audience quartet tried not to laugh as chairs were pushed aside, and after a long moment, the red and yellow Lamborghini’s rose up from under the table; groaning and wheezing with each stumbling movement.  But they were sans a gunner.  When the pair finally reached the confines of their seats, Sunny drawled, “He’s dead, Jim.”

Sides shook his head with a grin, “The young gunsser alwayssa first onessa go…”

Ratchet peered under the table to find Bluestreak leaning against one of the legs; hiccupping every once in a while and apparently asleep.  The medic rubbed his head, “Gotta’ give the kid props for tryin’…didn’t think he’d lastalong…”

It was then that Blaster decided to intervene with another burst of loud music, and Kayla and Jazz recognized the tune instantly.  Long before the chorus rang out, the drums and upbeat tune told them the song was Outcast’s “Hey Ya.”  Out of instinct, the girl began to hum and swayed to the rhythm, with the Porsche joining in soon after.  Unfortunately, the musical duo weren’t the only ones swaying.  No sooner did the song begin, did Sideswipe conjure up a “bright” idea.  A few heaves and stumbles got him to his feet, and he slurred out, “Hey guys…look whaIcan do…”  Without protest or hand-eye judgment, the Lambo twin began to dance…if one could call it that.  Naturally, in his present state, he had next to nothing regarding timing or coordination; he just-moved…in any way he felt, or could.  Actually, in the end, he seemed to just be awkwardly shuffling in place with a goofy grin on his face.

From his place atop the nearby table, Spike turned to Carly with an amused smile and replied, “Betcha’ the guys could do the robot!”  He began pivoting his torso and arms around for emphasis.

But despite the boy’s joke, everyone present, save for Sides, knew this was an accident waiting to happen.  Sure enough, the inevitable occurred.  When the music decided to cut for a dance break, the red Lamborghini took it as his cue to try and execute a graceful spin-it was anything but.  The gathered audience watched (save for Kayla, naturally) as the mech went into a wild twist; each turn becoming more erratic than the last.  Eventually, between his tipsiness and dizziness, the prankster let out an awkward yell as he tripped over his own feet and practically toppled over.

He would’ve fell completely if it hadn’t been for his brother, who managed to get to his feet and, at the last second, catch him.  However, even the save wasn’t spared the amusement, for the yellow Lambo’s rescue looked something reminiscent of a tango move.  Sides apparently noticed this, for he grinned at his twin and asked in a wry tone, “What?  No flowers?”

Sunstreaker looked down; realized what position they were in, and scowled at the joke; promptly dropping his brother.  A noticeable “ugh” escaped him as he, once again, took a seat…Sideswipe never left the floor.  The others shared a laugh while Ratchet shook his head, “Two down; one to go…”

With the exception of the high grade shenanigans, the rest of the party went off without a hitch.  Just like Kayla promised, Bumblebee returned for Spike and Carly not long after; apologizing for his impromptu exit.  Of course, the couple certainly had a story to tell him, regarding the tipsy kayos they just witnessed.  Speaking of which, it was only a few drinks later that Sunstreaker finally threw in the towel; the pounding music giving him a pounding headache.  With Ratchet as the clear victor, the yellow Lambo dragged his red twin to his feet, and together, the two shuffled out of the rec. room for a hard, long rest.

As for Jazz and Kayla, they were content to hang out with Blaster for the duration of the festivities; joking around, comparing music styles, and picking out songs for him to play.  In fact, the two musicians were so enthralled in their discussions, they barely registered that, as the evening wore on, more and more Autobots began to leave; retiring to recharge no doubt.  The saboteur came to notice this when he heard a low moan from behind, and turned to find that he, the girl, the DJ, the medic, and the passed-out gunner were the only ones left in the room.  But that was soon to change, for with great effort, Ratchet managed to pull Bluestreak out from under the table and get him to his feet.  Pulling an arm around his shoulder for support, the doctor sighed, “Come on; time for bed.”

As the pair started walking; albeit very slowly, a grin came upon the gunner’s features as he began to sing in a drunken tone, “Just keep walking; just keep walking; just keep walking, walking, walking; what do we do?  We walk, walk…”

The ambulance lazily rubbed a temple as he grumbled, “Bluestreak; no singing.”

But the warning never reached the gunner as he swayed his head back and forth, “Walkie, walkie, walk, walk, walk…”

“Blue”, the medic growled.

The mech in question extended a hand to no one as he raised his voice for dramatic effect, “Oh, how I looove to WAAALK!”

Finally, Ratchet had enough.  Stopping in his tracks, he spat, “Will you stop it with that song?!  Now it’s in my head!”

Bluestreak put on a guilty face and squeaked, “Sorry…” He then winced and rubbed his head, moaning, “…ooooh…don’t yell…”  With no arguments left, the medic and gunner slowly stumbled out the door; a table and chairs in shambles and left to clean up tomorrow.

That left our musical duo all alone, save for Blaster of course.  The Porsche looked to the doorway and managed a chuckle at his friends’ expenses, “Poor Ratch…”

The teen, who was still seated on his shoulder, shook her head with a smirk, “Well, that’s what ya’ get when ya’ party too hard…poor everybody, really.”

The black and white mech nodded his head, then stretched a tad, “Well, I’d say da’ party’s pretty much over.  C’mon; let’s grab ya’ guitar an’ I’ll take ya’ home.”

The red head stifled a yawn, “M’kay…I had a great time by the way.”

“Glad ta’ hear it”, the saboteur grinned as he made for the door.

It was then that a faint sound reached his audios, which slowly rose in volume, causing his steps to peter to a halt.  Apparently, the girl noticed it too, for she turned her head in the direction of the…tune, they both deciphered.  It was a rather calming melody; soft, serene, and nothing short of wistful, with two lovely voices sighing a chorus; signaling a song was about to start.  Curious, the mech’s gaze laid to rest on Blaster, who had his chin in his hands and returned the stare with a smile of his own.  With a flick of the head and a wave of his hand, the DJ silently signaled him in a “go on” kind of way.

Jazz smirked; getting the picture.  His head swiveled to face the teenager sitting atop his shoulder, and with the air of a gentleman, he bowed his head slightly, “May I have dis’ dance?”

Kayla’s face flushed red a moment; he wanted to…dance?  A…slow dance?  With her?  A second was all she needed to decide.  She cast a warm smile in his direction, “Most certainly.”

Without another thought, the saboteur gently lifted the red head from his shoulder and placed her so she was standing in the palm of his hand.  His other hand came to rest on her back for support.  With his charge secure, he slowly, but caringly began to rock back and forth on his feet in time to the rhythm.  The soothing melody wafted from the speakers and drifted across the room.

 

_Who would’ve thought-that I’d find-a boy like you_

_But when I saw you there, I knew-yes I knew_

_That we’d-never be-torn apart-from the start_

_We’d make our first dance-last forever_

 

From his seat at the turn table, Blaster looked on at the two with a wry grin; the whole time of the party, he was hoping to catch them alone.  In all his time as an Autobot, he never thought he’d ever want to play Sebastian and help someone to “kiss the girl” as the talking hermit crab did.  But seeing those two together, he knew they had an opportunity and he wasn’t about to let them pass it up.

 

_You’re too young-that I’d like-though you’re good_

_And then I show all them my shoe-oh, so true_

_So lost in your eyes-I can’t wait- for our first date_

_When we make our first dance-last forever_

 

Jazz smiled down at the girl in his hands; humming the melody as he gracefully swayed to and fro; adding a twirl here and there.  Kayla’s heart began to beat faster when she felt her friend’s enormous fingers wrap around her frame a bit more.  But she took it all in stride, and let out a soft, dreamy sigh as she leaned into his chest even more; listening to his strong, spark pulse deep within.  She didn’t need eyes to know he cared; she could feel his gentle warmth and tenderness, and hear the love in his voice, even if he was simply humming.  And although they never exactly spoke of it, they both silently knew there wasn’t a need to; they both knew they felt the same way about each other-through tone and music.  Human and robot thanked the stars they had found each other, for one couldn’t have seen a more perfect match.  With equal, soft grins, the pair glided across the golden, metallic floors, letting the tune carry them away.

 

_Please don’t break my heart-before we start this love affair_

_It would make my teary eyes shrunk dry-oh, what a guy_

_We’ll never be-torn apart-when we’re sweet hearts_

_Making our first dance-last forever…_

_…forever…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: PARTY TIME! 
> 
> I always wanted to showcase how the 'Bots like to party. 
> 
> But enjoy the wackiness while it lasts...because the story's about to take a turn for the worse...


	11. We Regret to Inform You

A steady wind whipped through the trees of a residential neighborhood; rustling the leaves rather loudly and breaking the quiet.  Heavy rainfall the previous night produced many large puddles along the sidewalks; reflecting a world that seemed to hunch over, due to the weight of the cold water.  To add to this, dark clouds blotted the sky; obscuring any of its normal blue color, and hinting at the likely chance of more rain.

But despite the overcast, dreariness of the day, none of the ecological disappointments seemed to deter Jazz as he, in his Porsche form, cruised the streets.  He had no reason to be sad, as he happily bopped along to the local radio stations.  The mech was heading off to pick up Kayla (as well as her mother) as usual, and he was already humming in anticipation.  As he, and everyone else had noticed by now, the girl had a way with bringing a smile to anyone’s face, no matter what the situation, and he, himself, couldn’t think of a world without her.  She just…completed him.  What kind of adventure would they have today? he wondered.

Just then, a familiar house of red brick came into view, and the saboteur inwardly smiled; knowing his best friend was awaiting him…or so he thought.  As the car neared the home, the Autobot was slowly able to get a better look at his destination.  Due to the mentioned, overcast weather, it caused the house to be cast in a much different light.  Usually, a warm, beautiful sunrise would project a warm glow on the bricks; the reddish hues sending an air of happiness and welcomeness.  Not so today, for the cold rainwater seemed to make the house cold as well; the clouds making dark shadows on the porch and lawn.  It was as if the portrait of the home was literally in its blue period.

To add to the confusion, Mrs. Matthews was standing by her usual spot at the mailbox…but only her.  Normally, both her and her daughter would be side by side, awaiting his arrival…but here she was; alone at the curb and arms folded as a makeshift shield against the breezy chill.

“Dat’s weird”, Jazz thought, “Maybe Kay’s still gettin’ ready.”  But peculiar sight aside, the Porsche, never the less, pulled up to the sidewalk and rolled his window down; revealing his holodriver.  Giving a smile and friendly wave, he greeted, “Mornin’, Mrs. Matthews; ya’ guys ready ta’ roll?”

The driver’s smile lessened a little when the woman didn’t make a move.  She merely stood there; a far away look in her eyes as she seemed to be contemplating something.  After what seemed like an eternity, her gaze finally shifted to the car in front of her, as if she just noticed he was there.  With a small sigh, she muttered, “Um…hi, Jazz.”

Gone was the grin and in was a look of puzzlement as the saboteur gave her a closer look.  One arm was draped over the mailbox as she stared at the ground; waiting for him to answer, he guessed.  So he did, “Whatsa’ matta’?  Are-ya’ guys okay?”

The mother’s eyes darted around, but were still trained on the ground…as if she were nervous to say anything.  A twinge of worry ran through the Porsche as he watched her awkward movements…what could’ve come over her all of a sudden?  Was it something he did?  He prayed it wasn’t.  He was about to ask when she finally answered; albeit very strained, “Kayla’s…not-coming today…”

The driver cocked his head to one side, “Oh…” was all he could say at the moment.  That was it?  Well that was no problem; there were a couple times the teen couldn’t make it.  What possibly made the mother worried about it now?  After a moment of silence, he reassured, “Well, if dat’s all, dat’s alright.”  But his words seemed to cause little effect, for the woman merely shifted on her feet and cleared her throat.  Another pause, and he asked, “Is da’ lil’ lady sick?”

Mrs. Matthews peered up for just a second and met Jazz’s concerned face; holo-driver face anyway.  A second later, it was back to the interesting ground again, as she stuttered out, rather quickly, “N-no, no…it’s…no.”

The Porsche went uncharacteristically silent at the awkward statement; something was not right here.  He hoped for some clearer answers than this, but he daren’t force her to talk.  But what could be the problem?  He never saw her act like this before, not even when she first met him.  Maybe with a little prodding…with a shrug, he offered, “I kin’ still take ya’ ta’ work.”

But the woman shook her head, “Thanks, but…I’m not going either…”  A cold shiver ran through her as she attempted to find her voice again.  With a sigh, she finally managed out, “Um…we’re-actually…going away-for a while…just got some…um-family business to take care of…”

The driver nodded his head, “Well, I’m not mad or nothin’; dat’s jus’ fine…kin’ I ask how long?”

Mrs. Matthews’ gaze went to the sky this time as she shrugged, “Um…probably a-week…two weeks tops.”  Her eyes finally fell upon the Porsche as she quickly added in, “I mean-we have that communicator you gave us…we’ll call when we get back…”

Jazz stared at the mother a moment; trying to sort out what he just heard.  It wasn’t that he distrusted her; certainly not, but it was obvious there was something she wasn’t telling him.  Whatever it was, judging by her strained movements and tone, he knew it wasn’t his place to ask; at least, not at the moment.  Although he was a bit skeptical of this weird attitude change in her, he managed to shrug it off when he reasoned that maybe he’d find out more once they returned.  With that logic in mind, he answered, “Well, alright den’…jus’ tell Kayla I said ‘hi’, an’ have a safe trip.”

Mrs. Matthews sighed and nodded, “T-thanks…”

With nothing else said, the saboteur did a quick K-turn, and drove back down the street once more; the woman watching him go all the while.  When he finally disappeared from view, she slowly turned around and made her way back inside her house; her gaze never leaving the ground.  


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Although the depressing rain had cleared up a tad in the past week or so, the sky still remained cloudy and dark; the wind carrying a chill that sent shivers down Kayla’s spine as she waited at the curb with her mother.  Thankfully, relief came in the form of a black and white Porsche, which gracefully pulled alongside the sidewalk; doors opening on their own accord.  However, not a word was spoken as Mrs. Matthews and her younger double both climbed into the backseats, with guitar in tow, and settled in as their Autobot friend drove off.

There was a short bout of silence until Jazz broke it by tuning in to the local radio station; for background noise as always.  His holo-driver sported a grin as he practically sang, “Mornin’, ladies.”

Kayla’s hands remained in her lap; head bowed slightly.  There was a short pause before she sighed, “…hey…”

The driver’s smile faded slightly at her unusual apprehensiveness.  Normally, the girl would begin to discuss the day’s schedule, their assigned duties, and then their usual music talk with new songs she learned and such…what could make a talkative musician go so quiet?  He then remembered her mother’s similar reaction not two weeks before…speaking of whom, oddly enough, it was her who called to say they were home, and not the teen as he had expected.  Perhaps he’d get the answers he was hoping for on the second go ‘round.  With a casual lilt, he replied, “I’m sure glad dem’ weeks are over.  Almost went crazy; I missed ya’ guys.”

Mrs. Matthews gave off a very, tiny smirk, “…so did we…”

The Autobot’s internal sensors looked the two over with much inquisitiveness.  The woman looked everywhere but at the holo-driver, while her daughter opted to leaning her head against the window.  Apparently, they must have caught his hidden question, for they said nothing else.  Now the ‘Bot was truly vexed; he certainly wasn’t lying to them; he really did miss them-a lot-especially Kayla.  He deeply missed her skillful playing, her beautiful singing, and her cheerful attitude…and as of now, he still missed it, seeing as how it was definitely not in tact at the moment.  Maybe he could liven things up if he changed the subject a tad.  As he splashed through a large puddle, he chuckled, “Hopin’ dis’ weather clears up soon; had so much rain da’ past couple days, thought Noah’s Ark’d go by…never rains, but it pours.”

No such luck, for the two red heads merely sighed and shrugged.  Jazz almost sighed himself; he was really at a loss now.  What happened while they were gone?  Who were these two, and what did they do with the real mother and daughter?  Unfortunately, he’d have to ponder the mom half of the puzzle later, for a familiar bus stop came into view.  Coming to a gentle halt, Mrs. Matthews kissed Kayla goodbye, then quickly stuttered a “thank you” to the saboteur as she exited the car without another word.  The ‘Bot gave a goodbye beep of his own as he sped off down a side street and back onto the main road.

That left the two musicians all alone as the Porsche bulleted towards the Ark.  The teen slouched further into the seats; yawning and choosing to remain quiet.  The driver’s gaze shifted from the road to his charge in the back, and he looked at her with a wistful frown; perhaps he’d have better luck with her.  Putting on a smile once more, knowing she’d know by tone of voice, he asked, “So how’s ma’ best friend doin’?”

The girl’s unseeing eyes darted around, however, she barely moved a muscle.  After a long pause, she finally shrugged and mumbled, “I’m…hangin’ in there…”

The saboteur cast a look of worry once more; he wasn’t expecting that answer.  Very gently, he asked, “Are ya’ alright?”  When his friend gave an indifferent shrug, he thought for a moment, and then it dawned on him, “Oh…musician’s block, ain’t it?”

The guitarist bowed her head even more, to the point her long, red hair was almost covering her face.  Another pause, and she muttered, “…somethin’ like that…”

For once in a lifetime, Jazz didn’t know what to say…mainly because he didn’t know what was wrong.  The teen never acted like this before; what in the blue Pit was going on?  Well, he’d find out, one way or another; no way was his best friend going to be sad forever.  For now, he’d let Sonny and Cher’s “I Got You Babe” combat the uncomfortable silence in the car.  For the rest of the ride, the radio was the only sound heard.

It was only a few minutes later, that the Porsche finally arrived at the Ark; stopping once inside the entrance.  He opened his door up wide so Kayla could easily slide out with her guitar, and she did…but again, the girl said nothing.  Once she was out, the Autobot transformed and began to walk beside her, since she was already trudging away before he even finished changing.  But soon, he leaned in and tapped her on the shoulder, making her stop.  Before she could ask, he carefully plucked the instrument from her grasp, explaining, “I gotta’ go on patrol pretty soon, so I’ll take ya’ guitar to ma’ quarters.  It’ll be in da’ usual spot.”  To that, the teen merely nodded.  From the level he had leaned in, it was then the saboteur noticed the slight bags under her eyes.  It was hard to tell, with her sunglasses resting low on the bridge of her nose, but a close look revealed otherwise.  The ‘Bot tilted his head a bit in concern, “Are ya’ sure ya’ alright?”

The red head gave a nervous cough as she unfolded her cane, “Y-yeah…um…I, uh-better get to work…”  With nothing else said, she started walking down the hall once more, leaving her best friend to just stand there and watch her go; a mixed look of worry and confusion in his features.

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Prowl was typing away on Teletraan-One, when a familiar tapping sound reached his audios, but one he hadn’t heard in a while.  Turning in his seat, he peered down to see Kayla making her way up to the console; human-sized data pads tucked under one arm, with her other hand doing the cane work.  Immediately, he greeted, “Good morning; it would appear you’re back from your trip.”  The girl gave a solemn nod, and he continued, “Well, I’m sure the others will be happy to know you’ve returned.”

“That’s sweet…” the musician muttered as she set the data pads down, “…it’s nice to be back…”  Laying a hand on the console for support, she slowly removed her sunglasses to blearily rub her dead eyes; letting loose a tired yawn in the process.

The tactician raised a non-existent eyebrow, “Are you ill?”

The girl’s head went up a tad, “Hmm…?”  She then seemed to finally register the question, and she waved a hand, mumbling, “Oh, n-no, um…just haven’t-gotten a lot of sleep lately…”

The police car rubbed his chin, “If you’re that tired, why not take a nap first?  Perhaps Ratchet could supply you with a sedative as well if you’re having trouble.  And you needn’t feel guilty for resting right now; it’s only logical to do.”

Being one of Mr. Spock’s protégé’s practically, it was interesting to hear some emotion come out of the ‘Bot, like his present concern, and it humbled the teenager so to listen to his reaction to such a simple answer.  With a shake of the head, she sighed, “T-thanks, but…I’ll be okay…just need some caffeine is all…”  It was then she finally turned in his general direction, and gave a smug expression, “So…what’d I miss?”

Seemingly satisfied, the second in command turned his attention back to the screen, “Well, thanks to Wheeljack’s ingenuity, and some unexpected added variables, we’ve finally made a breakthrough in counteracting the Decepticons’ EMP shield.”  He then looked to the teen standing silently next to him, “I have a few extra findings that need to be given to Optimus.”

Kayla ran a hand down her face; five data pads was a few?  But not the one to complain, she merely gave a tired nod and muttered, “I’m on it…”

Without further question, the girl raised both her hands and swept them over the buttons; found the familiar pattern, and carefully began to type.  Thanks to both Prowl and Chip’s teachings, she barely had any trouble in slipping each data pad into a slot, one by one, and beginning the downloading process.  The whole time, the police car watched her; mainly to make sure she didn’t make a mistake, but also with a tiny bit of pride.  Granted, he was slightly surprised at her wish to learn how to operate the computer; wondering how in the world he was going to teach her, but she soon taught him her methods of memorization.  With both that, and some assistance from Chip, the ‘Bot, in due time, had her helping with communications and the log books.  Both were arguably the most boring jobs around, even for him at times, but the teen would have none of it; happy to help out in any way, and cracking one liners or conversations to make the task go faster.  Either way, she simply made things more fun.

But as the tactician observed the musician at the moment, bearing the aforementioned findings in mind, he was soon alerted to the long bout of silence between them…a rather tense silence at that.  With practiced, swift movements, she dutifully gathered all of Prowl’s notes; downloaded the information, then removed each data pad to be stacked in a neat pile.  But what had caught his attention was the way in which she had carried out the task; silent, and without conversation, as if she were a droid merely doing its job and nothing more.  No words, no laughs, no questions-nothing.  The Autobot understood the girl’s tiredness, but this seemed like almost a personality reversal…and that certainly wasn’t logical.

The tactician’s thoughts were broken when Kayla heaved a sigh, “Got all your notes here; I’ll get em’ to Optimus right away…”  Tucking the stack of data pads under one arm, she turned on her heel and carefully made her way out of the room.  Prowl gave her a peculiar stare as she left; reasoning that without further information, he couldn’t make a conclusive judgment…but admitting his slight discomfort over what could’ve come over her.

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“Hey, hey, hey!” Sideswipe called out as he barreled down a corridor; happy as a kid at Christmas. His red haired target stopped in her tracks; not turning around.  With a sigh, she muttered, “Hi, Sides…”

The Autobot didn’t seem to notice her tone of voice as he ran up to her; excited just to see her again.  For the rest of their comrades, it was a peculiar thing.  Ever since that unforgettable day the musician gave the prankster a taste of his own medicine, one would’ve believed that Sides would’ve held a grudge; not so.  Although he was angered in the moment it happened, he later was able to take the joke in stride.  He reasoned that if the girl not only had the gall to prank him, but be able to actually pull it off, she was okay in his book.  The odd pair was on good terms since then, so much in that the ‘Bot actually asked for her help a few times in pranking various crew members.  She was always happy to assist…so long as it was a joke that wouldn’t land her in the brig.  That said, the red Lamborghini came to a stop beside her; grinning from audio to audio, “Kayla!  Just the girl I’m lookin’ for!”  He rubbed his hands in a mischievous fashion, “You got back just in time, ‘cause I got a killer prank to try on Sunny!”

The teen still refused to turn; however, her body noticeably shuddered as she tried to find her voice, “S-Sides…”

But the mech continued to deliver his pitch as he knelt down, “I figured I could use your help.”

The girl raised her voice a tad, and said pointedly in a huff, “Sides…no.”

The Lambo twin was busy digging in his subspace pocket when he did a double take at her remark.  Of course there were times she’d turn down a prank (for penalty reasons, obviously), but she at least had to know what the joke was, first.  “Aww, come on”, he whined; proceeding to unsubspace a small pouch (by human standards), “All ya’ gotta’ do is take this bag of marbles, and-“

“Sides”, Kayla cut him off, as she finally turned in his general direction.  For a split second, there was a flash of annoyment across her face, but it just as quickly faded away to something more like exhaustion.  The mech stopped short in his “debriefing” of sorts at her sudden outburst, and merely listened as she managed out, “Look…I…would love to help you prank your bro-any day of the week…”  She then sucked in a breath, adding in, “Just…not this week, okay?”

With that, the red head started walking again, leaving Sideswipe to stare after her; taken aback at her rather stressed out answer.  What was with her?  Did Sunstreaker prank her and blame it on him?  He sure hoped not…naah; it couldn’t be, or she would’ve been carrying one of the yellow Lambo’s signature “prank scars”, for lack of a better term.  She probably just woke up on the wrong side of the recharge birth-er, bed.  Well, he knew how to cure that.  Rising to his feet, the prankster had no trouble in catching up to the girl and keeping pace with her.  With a chuckle, he started, “Ya’ know, Sparkplug told me this great joke; these two cops walk into a bar, and…”

But Kayla interrupted him again, with a soft groan, and mumbled, “I’m not in the mood…”

One could see the question mark pop over the red twin’s head as he stopped in his tracks; letting the musician continue onward without him.  He watched her go; staring for a long moment, before trying one last thing, “…pull my finger…?”

The teen’s only answer was to keep walking.

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Bumblebee had just gotten off his patrol shift; smiling at the thought of a nice, long recharge, when he heard it.  He had decided to take a short cut back to his quarters; using a hallway not passed by many, when an oddly familiar sound reached his audios.  It was very soft; echoing along the corridors like a sullen ghost; drawing in anyone in the vicinity.  And that’s precisely what happened as the curious Minibot decided to follow.

It was the hums of guitar strings that caught his attention, and of course, that could only mean one person.  With that in mind, the Beetle didn’t hesitate in listening very closely; trying to determine the source of the melody.  It had been over two weeks since he’d last seen the red haired musician, and now, word had gotten around that she’d returned.  But he had been on long shifts the past few days, so he hadn’t been able to give a warm “hello”; now was his chance.  With much skill and patience, the Volkswagen crept down the hallway and quietly snuck a glance in each doorway, trying to find her.  Normally, he would’ve called out, but he didn’t want to interrupt her piece, lest she stop playing altogether.

It only took a few minutes, and Bumblebee soon found himself peeking into a guest room that was usually gathering dust.  Just like he suspected, there sat Kayla; on the floor, since the nearby recharge birth was too high.  She had her back to him, yet her black and white guitar lying in her lap clearly stuck out from either side of her frame.  However, the oddity was the sight of her sitting in a rarely used quarter; all by herself, no less.  Why wasn’t she hanging out with the others?

And there was another peculiar thing; being so close, the Autobot could now hear the strumming quite clearly…and it wasn’t anything he heard her play before.  Most of her melodies were either hard rock, soft, or sweet, making him recall the time he and his friends were gracefully lulled to sleep in the med bay by her musical talent.  With that in mind, it was surprising to hear a different tone of rhythm come from her.  She strummed the instrument with the same, practiced grace; however, the tune that wafted out was very soft, and equally slow, with a very…somber edge to it.  It seemed to make the room even colder than it was, coupled with the girl’s movements void of any energetic delivery.  Keeping quiet so as not to disturb her, the yellow Minibot listened to her equally soft singing.

 

_One by one_

_I suffer you gladly_

_One by one_

_You’re all I don’t need_

_And you couldn’t see, the wood from the tree_

_Your eyes are unkind, so don’t look at me_

_And all that you know, is written in stone_

_One by one_

_I suffer you badly_

_One by one_

_You’re all I don’t need_

_And life on the road, makes you feel old_

_Remember the time, when friends were around_

_When friends were around-when we were all friends_

_Is this the…way to be?_

 

The protective lids on Bumblebee’s optics noticeably drooped at hearing the sad song.  What was wrong? he wondered.  Before he could stop himself, he spoke up, “Kayla?”

The teen shuddered a tad, and instantly, the music came to a rather abrupt stop; a deafening silence following after.  The ‘Bot silently cursed for taking her by surprise; he had no intention to scare her.  But the musician gathered herself quickly, and slowly turned her head slightly, “…Bee?”

What are you doing here, was the question he actually heard.  Rubbing his head in embarrassment, he stammered, “I just-overheard.”

The red head didn’t move; only blinked her dead eyes a few times, “…oh…”

Seeing as how she wasn’t attempting to continue the conversation, Bee stepped forward a bit; asking gently, “What’re you doing here?”

The musician took a deep breath and turned away once more, muttering, “…wanted to practice…”  She then shrugged, “…not bother anyone…”

Not bother?  Since when was she a bother?  Everyone liked to hear her play; even grouches like Sunstreaker, Brawn, and Gears would drop by for a spell.  Unless she thought that maybe they wouldn’t care to hear a more depressing tune.  But what could be the cause?  She was generally a happy girl; just one of those days maybe?  But that didn’t explain the absence of another musician she was always with.  To that, he looked around, “…where’s Jazz?”

“On patrol…” she said; matter of factly.  There was a long pause, before she turned her head once more, and mumbled, “I’ll, um…catch up with ya’ later…I know ya’ need rest after your shift…”

And that was that, apparently, for she turned back around and said nothing more.  Bumblebee stared for a long moment at this unexpected apprehensiveness; wondering whether he was inclined to ask or not.  Obviously, he was curious at this change of her being, but in the end, he decided against it-he knew when someone wanted some alone time, and he daren’t risk the consequences; whatever they may be.  With that, he merely shrugged, “Well…o-kay then…”  Slowly, but hesitantly, the Beetle backed up a few steps, before turning around and trudging to his quarters; the girl remaining in the room. .

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“I’m tellin’ ya’, somebody is setting me up”, Sideswipe grumbled as he practically emptied the energon dispenser, “Someone must’ve pranked her good, and framed me for it; now she hates me.”

“Come on”, Bumblebee said from his seat at a table, “I seriously don’t think she’s the kind of person who holds a grudge, at least not in that sense.  Besides, you guys kinda’ called a truce.  If she thought it was you, she woulda’ been on your back in a second.”

The girl in question was a certain red head, who had caused a bit of a stir amongst her Autobot friends.  It had been two days since Kayla’s return, and it didn’t take long for others to start noticing her uncharacteristic, down in the dumps, attitude change.  She did her duties with no words exchanged; used hallways not normally traveled, and all music had ceased since Bee’s interruption the other day.  However, the causes still remained a mystery, and quite frankly, it was driving her closer friends up the wall.  Presently, three possible theories were being called out as the yellow Beetle and red Lamborghini obtained their morning energon.

“I still don’t get it”, the prankster mused as he sat in the chair opposite the Minibot, “We’re her friends…why won’t she tell us what’s wrong?”

The Volkswagen’s optics seemed to drill into the table as he pondered the question, “Prowl thinks it’s a lack of sleep.”

The Lambo twin looked at his comrade as if he was just slapped in the face, “What?!  That’s total slag!  He might as well mistake me for Ratchet if he actually believes that!”

Bee merely shrugged, “Well, it doesn’t sound too far off…she did kinda’ seem tired when I talked to her.”

Sides downed the rest of his drink, then stared the ‘Bot right in the optics, as he said in a rather snappy tone, “Alright then, Nostradamus; let’s hear your ground-breaking theory.”

The Beetle tapped a finger on the table top as he thought; not bothering to correct the twin that Nostradamus made predictions, not theories.  There was a long pause, before he scratched his head as he answered, “Well…m-maybe it’s…just-one of those days…”

But Sideswipe was already shaking his head, “Bee, nobody has a bad day for over two weeks straight.”  The Minibot was about to retort when the prankster stopped him, “I know what you’re gonna’ ask, but I know this because Jazz told me.  He said her mom was acting weird the day she said they weren’t coming; now Kayla’s acting the same way.”  The mech tapped the table for emphasis, “I know I’m not the smartest guy around here, but I know for a fact that something must’ve happened in those two weeks to make her go from happy rock star, to gloomy stick in the mud.”  A pause, and then, “This looks suspicious…”

To that, the Volkswagen actually smirked, “Now you sound like Red Alert.”

“I didn’t just hear that”, the Lamborghini spat rather quickly.  He then leaned in and replied in a more hushed tone, “Which, by the way; no one says a thing to him.  Primus forbid he gets wind of her sudden depression, and he’ll start ranting about how the Decepticons contacted Martians hiding in Saigon, and have replaced Kayla with a clone, while the real one is in Area 51 somewhere.”

The Beetle let out a laugh at his friend’s exaggeration of their nervous, Chief of Security.  But his chuckles soon faded away as his face turned more serious, “…you don’t think…?”

The two stared a moment, then laughed as they both said at the same time, “Pfft, naaah…”

After that, Bumblebee finished the rest of his energon as the chuckles dissolved into more silence.  The two remained that way for a while; contemplating the known facts and possible theories that were being thrown around.  Eventually, the Minibot spoke up with a concerned lilt to his voice, “…I really am worried about her, though…”

Sideswipe nodded his head in agreement, “…bet Jazz is havin’ a field day with this…”

The Beetle rested his head in his hand as he thought, “Believe me, he’s the most worried out of all of us…he said he’s trying to drop the hint to her, but she still won’t talk…said he’s gonna’ try and talk to her when she gets a chance.”

The Lamborghini rubbed his optics and groaned, “Now why didn’t we just do that in the first place?”  He started to rise to his feet, “Jazz won’t have to wait; I’ll ask her myself.”

But just then, a Western-style voice was heard from behind, “If ya’ gonna’ ask the darlin’ that bluntly, ya’ beder’ not.”

The prankster jumped slightly at being startled, and turned to see Ironhide leaning against the doorframe; arms crossed.  There was a brief pause, before the mech finally spoke, “Um…how long’ve you been standing there?”

“Long enough”, the red van replied as he walked up to the younger ‘Bots before him.  Like most of the others, he wasn’t present the day Kayla was welcomed on the team, but he was quickly introduced a few days later, and he had to admit, the kid had both wit and grit.  Anybody who had the nerve to spit in Megatron’s face was cool with him, so the early recognition of her strengths made him mostly unfazed of her handicap.  And although he wasn’t a big music fanatic, he, admittedly, became rather fond of Johnny Cash thanks to her.  (“He sounds kinda’ like you”, she said at one point.)  So, when the oldest warrior of the team first learned of her sudden obliqueness lately, and then overheard his comrades’ conversation and what they intended to do, he knew he had to go up to bat for the girl.  Stopping in front of the two, he continued, “Thar’s an old, Earth sayin’ that curiosity killed th’ cat.  If ya’ really wanna’ know, then let th’ answer come’n its own time.”

Sides flung his arms open, and said in defense, “But we can’t beat around the bush forever!”

“Ya’ won’t hav’ to”, Ironhide remained firm, “If th’ darlin’s been sad for a while, chances are, she’ll tell us soon.”

“How do you know?” Bumblebee asked.

The red van turned to him, “Years a’ experience, Bee.  I’ve seen similar things happen, an’ we don’t wanna’ upset her more than she already is.”  He then addressed both of them, “Leave th’ gal be…if somethin’s botherin’ her, she’ll tell us when she’s good n’ ready, an’ on her own terms.”

The Volkswagen and Lamborghini gave an absent nod; Hide had made it clear that was that for the time being, and they daren’t cross the hardened warrior.  With nothing else said, the three left for their designated posts.

.

.

.

Jazz was finally at the end of his rope; he was going to ask her.

However, the means of going about it was the challenge.  Such was this that the mech, in a rare moment, had no music playing on his cranial receiver.  But the silence, for once, didn’t faze him, for he was too lost in his own thoughts to register it in the first place.  All his focus was on his best friend, who had seemingly become a whole different person in a short amount of time.

It was now three days since Kayla’s return, but to him, it felt more like three years.  In another rare moment, he cursed his own duties for keeping him away from the Ark for most of those days; ensuring no chances to sit down and have a talk with the teenager.  Granted, he still picked up both the girl and her mother every day, but their less than tactful conversations revealed nothing.  Little by little, Mrs. Matthews was starting to speak a bit more than a few words, but even then, it sounded like she was doing it for appearance sake…but the girl remained in the same state.

What was going on?

Thank Primus for the rest of the Autobots, for they were able to shed a little more light on the issue…or at least describe her strange behavior in a tad more detail than a morning drive could provide.  But between the others’ reports, and the saboteur’s own observations, it was no mystery that something was majorly wrong with her.  For him, this went far beyond wonder and concern. He was worried.

No words, far off hallways, sad music, then no music…the mech was at a loss.  He would never force anyone to do something they hated, and he prayed it wouldn’t come to this…but he feared he had no other choice.  His logic told him he couldn’t help her if he didn’t know what was going on, so if flat out asking her was the only way to go, he had to do it.

But his emotions greatly outweighed that logic.

As Jazz slowly trudged down the orange corridors, he attempted to rehearse how he was going to converse exactly.  He went line by line; every word chosen with great care.  It took a long while (and a few dozen passes about the halls), but after what seemed like an eternity, the Porsche finally came up with something tolerable.  Now, all he had to do was find her.  No more worrying; no more withdrawal; he was getting clear answers once and for all.

And no matter what it was, he’d be there for her.

The ‘Bot was looking mostly at the floor; contemplating the fateful conversation, when a faint, but distinct tapping sound reached his audios.  Glancing upwards, he immediately thanked Primus for his luck.  In the same hallway as him, Kayla could be spotted a far way ahead, thanks to her aqua blue shirt and long, red hair.  Immediately, he began to quicken his pace; wanting to close the gap before she got away.

Well, here it goes…

But just then, a certain something would see to it that the girl remained out of his reach, at least for the moment.  The saboteur was about to call out to the musician, when he noticed something stark white, light, and flat, come loose from her back jean pocket, and slowly float to the floor with barely a sound…a piece of paper.

It was folded…rather neatly as well, as Jazz’s gargantuan feet came to rest in front of where it landed.  The mech immediately paused in his trot to kneel down and pluck the paper off the floor to scrutinize it more.  And apparently, his actions were with skillful silence, for Kayla never seemed to notice he was trudging behind her.  Upon rising to his feet, he looked ahead to find that the red head had disappeared around the corner-darn it.

Jazz let out a long sigh as he decided to focus more on the mysterious paper first.  Only then did a flash of something catch his optics.  There was a reflective sticker of some kind on one of the crease lines; gold and shiny, with very small indentations on it.  He had to squint a little and put his visor on the highest magnification setting, but soon, he was able to make out the circle of stars, the shield, and an eagle bearing arrows in one talon; olive branches in the other…the Seal of the President. And the line going across it indicated the seal had been broken already.

His curiosity perked, the ‘Bot, as carefully and precisely as he could, managed to poke his enormous fingers around the paper, and slowly, but surely, unfold it.  After that was accomplished, he, once again, had to make a recalibration of his visor and optic sensors in order to make out the ridiculously small print on something, to him, were the size of a postage stamp.  But his patience paid off, and soon, he managed to decipher the elegant-looking words.

It seemed to be a letter of some kind, he deduced, as he read in silence.

_Dear Matthews family, The United States Military, in tandem with our investigative departments and sub-divisions, present this letter to you on behalf of Captain Peter Matthews and his Company.  It was very recently that the Captain and his Company were given orders to be sent to the front lines for battle.  The team fought valiantly, and the mission was a success.  But unfortunately, our victory came at a high cost.  It deeply saddens us to make such a report, but we-_

Whatever else was written on that page remained a blur to Jazz, as all of his first attempts at a conversation went out the proverbial window in an instant.  It didn’t matter, for no amount of preparation could’ve prepared him for what he was about to discover.  In fact, the whole note seemed to ooze away, leaving but one sentence…a sentence that, upon recognition, made his mouth hang open, his optics widen behind his visor, and his spark run utterly cold and sink.

_We regret to inform you that Captain Peter Matthews was killed in the line of duty._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Remember way back in "Guitar Hero" when I said I couldn't tell you anything about Kayla's dad until the sequel?
> 
> THIS is why...
> 
> And I know this was a long chapter, but I just couldn't find a good stopping place, so...just bear with it.


	12. Family

Things were quiet in the small room, save for the soft hum of electricity…small by Autobot standards.  The area was a tad farther off the beaten path the Ark’s residents usually traveled; its only occupants being a table and chairs, a computer console, a couch…and a red haired teenager sitting on it.

She was plopped down in the middle of said couch; her legs dangling off the edge, motionless.  Her body was noticeably hunched over; her long hair beginning to hang in front of her face.  The sunglasses that usually laid to rest on her nose had long since been stowed away, revealing pale blue eyes-now strongly bloodshot due to sleep deprivation…and…there was that misty feeling again…

The girl quickly drew in a sharp intake of air, then slowly exhaled…but it was a bit shaky.  Never the less, she attempted to stiffen her face…no…she wouldn’t let that tear fall.  She couldn’t be weak…she wouldn’t…she just had to gather herself is all.  There were enough close calls already, especially with the run-in’s with Sideswipe and Bumblebee.  Her hands balled into fists as another urge shot through her…she was captured by Decepticons; she helped the Autobots…she was tougher than this.  Don’t show weakness…don’t lose it…toughen up, because crying isn’t going to help-his duty to the country taught her that…

…Dad…

Shut up, shut up, shut up…she wouldn’t make her Mom any better if she saw her like this, and neither with the ‘Bots…get it together…she’ll survive…don’t be a bother…don’t become a worry…don’t- “Kayla?” asked a voice from behind.

The teen didn’t move, except to check her jean pocket to find her communicator tucked away…he must have tracked the signal.  With the rich, deep voice giving the person away, she answered, very quietly, “…hi, Optimus…”

There then came the sound of heavy footsteps approaching her.  Both the noise, and the vibrations along with it, followed around the couch, then suddenly stopped.  The pause signaled that he must have been regarding her a moment.  But soon, there came the sound of creaking metal, and her body jumped slightly as he sat down beside her.

But the girl was so focused on the leader’s actions, that she barely noticed the noise of a similar occurrence to her right, causing her another jump as another mech sat down on the other side of her.  There was a long pause before an all-too familiar voice replied, slowly, “I, um…think ya’ dropped dis’…”

Jazz…there was a rustle of paper, and something light tapped her shoulder…oh no…but with a sigh, she reached up and took back the note; sliding the remaining piece of her father back in her pocket.  A moment of silence, and then, “…thanks…”  Didn’t matter how it got loose, or how they found it…there was no way out now…

The two Autobots looked up at each other briefly; both silently noting the red head’s shaky hands…this wasn’t going to be easy…then again, it never was.  Their attention was then brought back to her as she drew another breath.  Leaning forward ever so slightly, Optimus looked her over once more, then asked very gently, “Is there something you want to tell us?”

The tension was thick as the mechs awaited her answer.  The teen barely moved a muscle, but her head drooped even more as her unseeing eyes blinked a few times.  Another bout of silence, before she finally managed out, above barely a whisper, “…you read the letter…didn’t you…?”

“Yeah…” was all the saboteur could say at the moment.  He stared long and hard at his best friend; his frown deepening and spark sinking even more in utter devastation; knowing that her whole world was falling apart…and she said nothing to them.  With a hand starting to inch toward her prone body, he finally asked in a soft, concerned tone, “Kayla…why didn’t ya’ tell us…?”

That voice…the care, the…pain behind it…it made her eyes get that misty feeling again…so she shut them…not now…not in front of them…not in front of Jazz. She’d just explain, and that’d be the end of it…but the words were hard in coming.  However, the two flanking either side of her seemed to have all the patience in the world.  It took a few sniffs and awkward starts, but eventually, the girl finally, after days of withdrawal, quietly began to talk.

“W-well…” she stuttered, “…y-…y-you-guys’ve-been in a war…for so long…seen so much…I-didn’t think that…this would-be…make any-difference…to you…”

The teen fidgeted slightly; knowing the ‘Bots were staring at her.  The misty feeling was growing stronger, causing her to shut her eyes tighter.  Taking a sharp breath, she began twiddling her fingers, but pressed on; voice still on the mumbling level, “A-and…I mean…you-know already that…I hate it when people-take pity on me…bad enough I-have a-handicap…I-don’t need anyone-waiting hand and foot on me…”

It was getting harder to hold back…she thrust her hands in her lap in a vain attempt to hide how much they were trembling…and still, her two mech audience said nothing.  Were they angry?  Mad that she didn’t tell them?  She wouldn’t be surprised…but she didn’t plan on them finding out.  The red head pressed her lips firmly together; trying to intake a shaky breath unnoticed.  But when she finally spoke once more, nothing could hide her voice cracking a little, “It’s not that I don’t confide in you guys…I just…d-didn’t wanna’ be a-worry…all these-‘Con attacks and…y-you have enough-trouble as it is…y-you don’t-need me adding things to the plate…”

She slowly and shakily let out a soft sigh; apparently, that was the end…of the explanation, anyway.  Her body noticeably tensed up as she now awaited her friends’ response.  For a long moment, all was silent as the two Autobots looked at each other, then back to the girl in utter disbelief.  The whole time she spilled out her reasoning, both their sparks winced (Jazz most notably) as if they’d been stabbed, at each of her points.  There was no question it was becoming increasingly difficult for her to even speak, but when she did, they were floored…mainly because she didn’t tell them, not so much out of pain, but more because she was concerned for their well being.  How long did she stay like this?  Keeping everything bottled up like that…it must have made her sick…

Jazz was now leaning in closer to her; mouth starting to hang open.  Optimus did the same, but it was he who spoke first.  After the long, uneasy pause, he began in a very concerned, gentle voice, “Kayla…what in Primus’ name could possibly make you think we wouldn’t care?”  He lightly patted her back as he continued, “When any one of my comrades have problems, they’re always important…and they always come first and before my own.”  The red head twitched at his mention of perceiving her as a comrade.  He let his hand drop as he went on, “And we know very well you’re a strong, independent, young woman…but you should never be hesitant in asking for help…or more importantly, for someone to talk to-because we’re always here to.”

The teen remained quiet, but shuttered a bit…the pressure was building.  Both her eyes and lips were now pressed as tightly as they could go…especially when Jazz started to speak.  Picking up where his leader left off, he slowly drawled in a most caringly, almost spark-broken tone, “Yeah…if ya’ keep it all inside ya’, it hurts even more…don’t ever do dat’-ya’ made me worried; worried all’ve us.”  To that, he gave her a light pat of his own, “I thought I lost ma’ friend fer’ a while der’…I care ‘bout ya’…”  He let his hand drop as he finished in almost a whisper, “Afta’ all…we’re all one big ol’ family.”

The two Autobots sat still; watching her intently…for a brief moment, all was quiet…

…and then Kayla’s shoulders began to shake…

…and she began to cry…

When the news of her father’s passing first came, it struck her in such a way that made her go numb to everything…like walking in a dream-hoping to wake up…but now, the reality of it all, coupled with the care and concern of her friends, made everything drop down ten fold.  She tried so hard…but her heart just couldn’t take it anymore.  All her strength, all her defenses, and all her barriers melted away; unleashing every ounce of pain, sadness, and grief she bottled up for nearly three weeks.

The sobbing had started off soft, with her body twitching; her back hunching over even more, and her breaths hitched.  But when her shaky hands moved to her face, in order to cover up the obvious, it only made things worse…and gradually…the hard, increasing sobs…turned into very loud cries…very heart-broken…desperate cries…

Optimus had noticeably twitched; his spark breaking at the mere sight…but his hand hovered over her; not quite sure how to even begin to console her.

Until Jazz moved in…

His spark felt like it had been torn in two, and he himself cringed at the unfairness of it all; his best friend going to pieces over something he could do nothing about…but there was one thing he could do.  In his most gentle voice, he whispered, “Heeaay…c’mere…”

Without another thought, his enormous hands slowly scooped themselves around the girl’s frame.  Her own hands wet with tears, they flew to her sides at the sudden movement; resisting for only a second.  But in just as quick a movement, her body went limp, and she let herself be gently pulled over to his side.  Her cries never decreased in volume, but it hardly mattered anymore.  Such was this that she immediately burrowed into his leg-heaving the deepest sobs.

The saboteur looked down at his charge; her body shaking with a great intensity with each hitched outburst.  Keeping both his hands protectively cupped around her, he used his thumb to slowly stroke her back; trying to soothe her in any way possible.  As he began the massage of sorts, he lulled in a comforting tone, “Der’, der’…it’s gonna’ be okay…”

It sure didn’t seem that way to Kayla, who couldn’t stop herself from wailing even more.  Her very soul was tearing apart; she clung to him like a lifeline, and yet, wanted to get away-to not let anyone see her in this state.  But the Porsche made it clear she wasn’t going anywhere, by the way he held her, much like a mother hen.  Lifting her head just a tad, she sputtered out, between exasperated gasps and hiccups, “B-b-but…I…I c-I c-c-can’t…”  Her voice cracked and trailed off when she coughed out another cry.

But Jazz already knew what she was trying to say, and put her fears to rest, “Yeah, ya’ can…der’s no shame in cryin’.”  He continued to rub circles across her back, which was still trembling…and the heaving, moans, and tears were still coming strong.  But his optics never left her as he hushed in a soft, soothing voice, “Ssshhhhhh…jus’ let it aaallll out…”

Optimus watched the whole scene in a saddened silence.  Whether it was God or the Matrix that humans went to after death, he whispered a prayer that her father had made it without any trouble.  He only wished he could do more…he had consoled many of his soldiers before, but upon learning of the girl’s tragedy, he knew, without a doubt, that Jazz was the better mech for this.  The two held a special bond, much like Chip and Prowl, and Spike and Bumblebee…he prayed it was strong enough to help her healing.

Still, Prime knew he needed to say something…so, with careful movement, he reached over and placed a hand on their embrace.  He then muttered in a pained voice, “I’m so sorry…”  The leader would never forget when the saboteur entered his quarters and handed him that forsaken note he’d found.  He was sorry…not only for her loss, but that someone her age had to put up with all the hardships she’d gone through…no one deserved this-especially not her.  Hopefully, the Autobots would be able to help-they’d all experienced a loss before, so everyone could relate.  He hoped it’d be enough…

The teen’s cries could still be heard, but thankfully, she’d noticeably calmed down a tad.  It was then that she slowly turned in her seat and felt around.  The black and white ‘Bot eased up a bit on his grip to let her move, and it wasn’t long before she found Optimus’ hand.  A river of tears continued to pour down her reddened face as she gave the enormous, blue hand a hard squeeze.  The red head said nothing, but both mechs understood the gesture; it was both a “thank you”, and a desperate way to try and gather strength…from someone; anyone.  Without even thinking, Prime curled his thumb and index finger around her hand in a gentle squeeze of his own.  But a minute later, her arm flopped back down, as if there were no feeling in it, and she merely remained still-gasping and shuttering all the while.

Optimus slowly withdrew his hand, while Jazz closed his grip around her once more.  He continued to look down at his crying friend; feeling distressed and utterly helpless that he couldn’t make it all go away.  This girl…his soul mate practically…so young…his spark was literally aching-so badly-at seeing her suffer…that a single, trickle of blue optic fluid leaked down from under his visor.  Prime’s own optics widened as his gaze shifted upwards to his Special Ops. Agent, and he watched as the saboteur let go of his charge-for only a second-to wipe his face…he couldn’t afford to break down right now; not when she needed him most.

A few more tense moments passed, with the saboteur caressing and consoling the girl in hushed tones.  Eventually, the moans and heaving calmed a bit more, and she tiredly leaned against her friend; shedding quiet tears all the while.  Without turning, she muttered, very softly, “…Optimus…?”

The leader, who was sitting in mournful silence, watching her, leaned in, “Yes?”

Another pause, and she sputtered out, “…t-the others…gonna’ h-have to know…or they’ll start askin’…”

“I understand”, Prime finished with a nod of the head, “I’ll tell them.”

Kayla let out a sniff at Optimus’ generosity of sparing her the pain of giving the explanation all over again.  She didn’t want him to be the bearer of bad news, but his gentle but firm tone made it clear he was doing it-no arguments.  To that, all she could muster, above barely a whisper, was, “…t-thank you…”

With another pat of consolement, the leader rose to his feet, uttering, “I’ll check on you later”.  He then gave her one more glance, then slowly walked towards the door…better to tell everyone now than to hold it off.

But just as he was about to leave, Jazz’s voice sounded from behind, “Sir?”  The Porsche’s addressing made Prime turn; he always called him by his first name-it had to be extremely serious if he called him “sir”.  The leader locked optics with the saboteur, and said mech continued, “Code lock da’ door…she-we need time…”

Optimus nodded in understanding…he knew this was going to take a while, and it wouldn’t help matters if everyone started barging in.  As the ‘Bot took his leave, and the doors swished shut, the faint beeps and clicks of the security lock could be heard shortly after; ensuring their privacy.

The black and white ‘Bot turned his attention back to his fellow musician as she sniffed and wiped the tears from her face as best she could.  With a tired huff, she squeaked, “…Jazz…?”

“Hmm…?” he hummed in inquirement.  

Before she said anything else, however, he carefully picked her up, and with quick, precise movements, he was soon, gently cradling her in his arm.  He knew, deep in his spark, she needed this, and he did it as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

But the distressed girl had other thoughts.  No sooner did he have her, she rolled to the side and attempted to squirm away.  She knew she couldn’t get down by herself, but she hoped the movement would tell him to put her down.  Her voice teary and cracked, she muttered, “…you don’t need to…”

But the saboteur would have none of it, and merely used his free hand to gently push her back into the crook of his arm.  “Yeah, I do…” he soothed, “It ain’t right ta’ leave a family member ‘lone.”

A few more tears streaked down Kayla’s face as she hiccupped and her unseeing eyes went wide at his words.  Had the situation been different, Jazz would’ve laughed at her expression-he cared for her; what was so shocking about that?  Knowing she was beat, the red head released all the tension in her body; leaned into his chest plate, and continued to sob.  Now that she was at least semi relaxed, the ‘Bot leaned back on the couch, then shifted his grip a little so she could snuggle closer.  With his freehand, he gently began to stroke her head; whispering as many words of comfort as he could.

The two remained that way; one giving every last drop of his compassion and sympathy; the other being embraced in the loving hold of her fri…older brother…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: After all this time of Kayla being the one who comforts the 'Bots, the roles have now reversed...


	13. Lean on Me

_“Okay, Kayla!” a voice bearing both love and a demand for respect called out, “Come find me!”_

_She hesitated a moment; feeling her pigtails bounce around as she swiveled her head.  She clutched a cane she was still getting used to, and proceeded to swing at the darkness a few times._

_“You won’t find me like that”, he instructed, “We’ve done this before, and I know you can do it.  Use your other senses.”_

_The girl stopped and listened…bird chirps, leaves rustling, the wind…it was hard to make out his breathing with all the other noises in the way.  Her frustration growing, she huffed, “Daddy, I need help.”_

_“You’re almost seven; you’re a big girl now”, the voice urged, “There’s times you’re gonna’ have to do things for yourself.”_

_“But what if I can’t?” she said with a sniffle as she tried to follow his voice, “I’m scared.”_

_“It’s okay to be afraid”, her father replied in a gentle tone, “But you can’t live in fear-it’ll get you nowhere.  Now, just be patient and keep trying.  Use your hearing.”_

_Another desperate whimper escaped her, but she then sucked in a breath and tried again; she couldn’t let him down.  Thankfully, the summer breeze had calmed down, so a shortage of leaf rustles followed after.  With that, she stood still and listened.  It was then that a new sound drifted through the air…the timbers of pianos and violins…classical music?  Where could that be coming from outside?  Curious, she turned towards the noise._

_“That’s it!” her dad suddenly called out, “You’re getting closer!”_

_She was?  Apparently, he was in the same direction as the mysterious tune.  Absurd as it seemed, if she followed the music, she’d find him.  She took a few more steps forward; glad that the classical tune was continuous, so it’d be easier to follow…and with each step, the music gradually became louder._

_“Come on, come on!” the man cheered, “You’re almost there!”_

_The girl’s heart pounded in happiness as she quickened her pace.  A strange sensation came over her, as if some kind of force was pulling her towards her goal.  Her dad gave another joyous shout and she laughed in return-she did it!  She was so close…her outstretched hand brushed against his, and- “NOW!” yelled a voice._

_Kayla darted around, but it was too late.  Before she knew it, something grabbed her from behind and held her hands behind her back; something cold and metal…robots; Decepticons!  She knew there were two of them because she heard the clank of metal in front of her, as well as the jerk behind her.  How did they know where she lived?_

_Just then, a voice came from in front of her, “Nice work, Rumble.  We oughta’ do this stuff more often!”_

_Next, came the voice of the mech behind her, “Come on, Frenzy; Soundwave’s waitin’ for us!” Rumble and Frenzy?!  Not them!  Instantly, she began to heave and grunt as she thrashed about, trying to get free. But the cassette had an iron grip and wrenched her wrist around, making her yell in pain._

_“LET ME GO!” her father yelled; his voice in a complete enragement, “GET YOUR HANDS OFF MY DAUGHTER!”_

_Oh no-they had Dad too!_

_“Shut your slaggin’ yap!” Frenzy spat, and an audible smack could be heard._

_“STOP IT!” she screamed, “DON’T HURT HIM!”  Her voice had drastically changed in pitch, and she could feel her hair now draping her shoulders, with her cane feeling slightly heavier…was she a teenager now?_

_But there was no time to think about it, for just then, a higher pitched, maniacal voice sounded from above, “Ah-ah; we don’t want you bringing the police-not like they could do anything anyway.  Grab everything and let’s go!”_

_Starscream was here too?!  NO!  She attempted to struggle again, but it was no use.  Cold, metal fingers wrapped around her, and in a matter of seconds, she felt her stomach do a barrel roll as she felt the air whoosh by.  A still pause, and then the feeling of falling down-_

_-right onto a hard, metal floor.  The pain of the landing hurt so badly…she gritted her teeth in agony-how could this happen?  Why her?  Why Dad?  But then, that familiar classical music started playing again-where was it coming from?_

_A gentle hand took her shoulder and helped her up, “You okay, honey?”_

_“DAD!” she cried in relief.  She immediately flung herself into his arms, and he held her tight; whispering words of encouragement…a little Southern twang seeping in every now and then, with the calming melody wafting about and growing louder the longer they held each other._

_Suddenly, the red head heard the sound of large footsteps coming toward her.  “I still don’t get it”, she heard Starscream grumble, “Why was I ordered to bring fleshlings into our headquarters?”_

_It was then the classical music came to an abrupt halt when the raspy, sinister, evil voice of Megatron boomed, “Because we need bait.”  He then addressed his prisoners, “Now, my dear, if that low grade saboteur is your friend, surely you must know something about the Autobots.  Tell me what you know.”_

_Her father, who was still holding her in a loving hug, tightened his grip around her, giving her the extra spur of courage she needed.  Kayla could feel her face flushing as she yelled, “Up yours, Megadork!  I’m tellin’ you jack squat!”_

_“That a girl”, the man whispered in her ear, and for a second, the music started again, “Don’t give them what they want.”_

_“Cease that insulting mouth of yours!” the tyrant roared in outrage._

_The teen felt her dad take a step in front of her, “You stay away from her!  I won’t let you harm her in any way!”_

_“Silence!” Megatron cried; the ground shaking as he slammed his fist, “I wouldn’t do such things if I were you, and you daren’t get me riled.  One more note, and I can assure you that your punishment won’t be pleasant.”_

_But the man didn’t back down, “You can just slink back to whatever stinkin’ hole you crawled out of!  If you want Kayla, you’ll have to go through me first!  GO TO HECK!”_

_“THAT’S IT!” the dictator screamed.  There was a whoosh of air, and a loud crash of metal as the cage they were imprisoned in was swatted away.  The teen instinctively put her hands over her head, not expecting the sudden outburst, and the Decepticon leader continued to yell, “I’VE HAD ENOUGH OF THIS INFERNAL FLESHLING!”_

_“Oh, for Primus sake, just kill him!” Starscream added in with frustration._

_Before the girl knew what was happening, a large, metal hand swatted her; sending her sprawling and away from her dad’s loving hands with a sickening, leather snap.  Several grunts of a struggle could be heard, and she realized with utter horror that Megatron must’ve grabbed him!_

_“DAD!” she screamed._

_But all her yells were in vain.  The ‘Con let out a roar and a terrified howl could be heard as the shocking sound of wood striking metal and cracking bones met her ears.  Guitar strings rubbed against each other, letting out the horrifying, final cry of a man in sheer agony.  A gurgle/cough, a raspy gasp…and then silence._

_DAD?!  DAD!  He was DEAD!  Megatron killed him and he’s DEAD!  Dead all over again!_

_Oh, God, no!_

_NOOOOO!_

.

.

.

Warm metal wrapped around her and she struggled to get free; she wouldn’t let Megatron get her!  She wasn’t going to die!  With sweat beating down her forehead, she let out another scream as large fingers touched her face.

But just then, a Southern/Cajun voice called out, “Kayla, hey!”  The large fingers were still on her trembling frame, but instead of choking her into a death grip…they slowly caressed her head, ever so softly.  With equal grace, came a comforting tone, “Hey…sshh…it’s okay…’s okay…it’s me…”

Her mind still racing in a panic, the teenager almost didn’t realize the voice was of her best friend.  But just for assurance, she gasped, “J-Jazz…?”

The saboteur gave a nod at the girl still being cradled in his arm, “Uh huh…”  With his freehand, he softly stroked her head and gave her shoulder a reassuring pat as he lulled very gently, “Hush now…I’m here…was jus’ a bad dream…”

A tear escaped her, but she quickly wiped it away.  A dream…it was only a nightmare…but it all seemed so real…well, part of it was.  The Decepticons did capture her…but she ran a hand down her face as she tried to gather herself and breathe in reality; the ‘Cons never took Dad…they got their afts handed to them-she was safe…Jazz was with her right now; he’s okay-she’s okay…

…and Dad was still…

“W-what happened?” the red head asked; albeit more relaxed.

The mech put a loving hand around her and pushed her closer to his chest plate; rubbing her back in a soothing manner as he explained, “Y’ were so upset last night that ya’ went an’ cried yourself ta’ sleep.”  He ran a finger through her hair as he added in, “Ya’ needed da’ rest…couldn’t bring myself ta’ wake ya’.”

Kayla had almost calmed down, when she took note of her friend’s words, and it made her heart skip a beat.  “L-last night?” she questioned.  Her eyes then widened in realization, “Oh no…”

But the Porsche was quick to hush her, and spoke with calm reassurance, “Don’t worry.  Optimus called yer’ mom an’ told her what happened.  She was more n’ happy ta’ let ya’ stay…she understood.”

The girl paused, trying to register everything since waking up, but the ‘Bot’s care and concern; expressed both in tone and comfort, told her everything was already taken care of.  With a sigh of relief, she leaned into his gentle embrace; content to listen to his strong spark pulse while being cradled a while longer.  Jazz had noticeably sighed as well; not minding the moment one bit.  But he was pulled from his thoughts when the teen asked the one question she was left to ponder, “…w-what about you?”

The saboteur stared long and hard at his charge, wondering just how he was going to answer her.  Thinking back on it, needless to say, it had been a rough night.  Images of the girl ran through his mind, and how she kept sniffling and whimpering in her sleep.  It was painfully clear she couldn’t find escape even in her own dreams, and it was a spark-wrenching sight to see her suffer in a place he couldn’t get to.  Even in his mech-made cradle, she’d toss and turn; emitting soft, pitiful whines that were just pleading for help.  At one point, her arms started to thrash about in a furious tizzy as she mumbled and gasped things incoherent to the human ear.  But Jazz’s sharp audios picking up words like “dad”, “stay away”, and “help”, was enough for him to try and take hold of her hand so she wouldn’t hurt herself.  Thankfully, it seemed he’d finally gotten through to her subconscious when a play of classical music, coupled with soothing words and gentle rocking calmed her a bit.  But apparently, a long night with little recharge took its toll, and the ‘Bot slipped into a tired bliss, leaving Kayla defenseless in another nightmare.  In fact, it was her scream that woke him up with a start.

It took all but a few seconds to contemplate the aforementioned events, but longer to come up with an answer.  He daren’t embarrass her with what she had unknowingly done.  So finally, after a long pause, he shrugged, “I jus’ watched ya’…”  But his insomnia sought to prove him wrong, and a loud, deep yawn escaped him as he blinked a few times behind his visor, “Guess I musta’ dozed off myself…”

At that revelation, the teen lifted her head from his chest plate and tilted back to face his general direction.  With slight confusion, but mostly awe, she muttered, “So…all that time…you stayed?”

The mech looked to the girl; the tiniest smile forming, as he replied with all the love of a big brother, “Told ya’ I wouldn’t leave ya’…”  Another tear ran down her cheek; her heart melting at his affectionate concern and care.  His grin disappearing, he tilted his head slightly as he asked, “Feelin’ better…?”

No-obviously, was the real answer.  They both knew it would be a long while before she felt better…perhaps a more accurate question would’ve been, “Is the bulk of it over?”  That’s what he was really asking, and she knew it…but she didn’t know what to say.  Her very being had become a flood gate of emotions; none of which she could completely get a hold of at the moment.  After a long silence, she finally shrugged and let loose a tired sigh, “I don’t know what to feel…”

At that, Jazz pulled her close once more; softly stroking her head as he explained in a gentle tone, “Don’t ya’ worry…it may not feel like it now, but…it’ll get better…”  His mind wandered to the early days of the war-seeing close comrades killed in battle; some, right before his optics…fellow musicians that would sing and play no more.  A hard twinge of pain ran through his spark at the memories, but remembering who needed help at the moment, he sucked in a breath and added in, “…I so wish I could say it’ll all go away, but-it won’t…but…da’ wound will heal some…”

Kayla could tell he was desperately trying not to let his voice waver…it was clear something triggered a painful memory or thought…and she daren’t ask what it was.  Then again, no words were necessary anyway; kindred spirits had no need for them.  All she motioned was a simple nod in understanding-if he was there for her, she’d be there for him.

The saboteur stared into her pain-filled, pale, blue eyes for one more moment, until the sound of large, metal footsteps out in the hall brought him back to reality.  Giving her one last squeeze, he started, “Well…”  With great care, he slowly shifted the girl into the palm of his hand, then gently set her down on the floor.  He then let out a soft sigh, “…better go n’ see what da’ guys are up to; probably wonderin’ where we’re at.”

The red head stood still a moment, then made a sigh of her own…she knew he was only stating what needed to be…as much as they hated it, they both had to face facts; they couldn’t stay locked in the room forever.  With a mumble of, “Okay…” she quietly unfolded her cane tucked away in her belt loop.  The Porsche could only watch in companionable silence as she made for the door; stopping once in front of it.

It was then he remembered that Optimus code locked the door.  Thankfully, Prime had given him the password when he checked up on the pair later, as promised.  Rising from the couch, the mech carefully stepped over and next to the teen, and swiftly punched in the combination on the wall unit.  No sooner did the lock beep, he bent down to face the distressed girl, muttering, “Kayla…if anythin’ happens…you jus’ come n’ talk ta’ me, or anyone-‘kay?”

The musician turned in his direction slightly; face still red with tears, but expression monotone.  Even with the limited rest she’d gotten, she, quite frankly, hadn’t the strength to shed anymore tears at the moment.  This whole catastrophe; her admittance last night; trying to push that God-awful nightmare out of her mind…she was just-drained.  Maybe it was just as well, for her sluggishness might’ve been her only defense against the many Autobots she was about to face.  Optimus must have told them all by now…Lord only knew what they were going to say to her.  Well…have to face them sometime, so with a feeble nod, she sighed, “M’kay…”

Jazz looked at his friend a moment; knowing almost exactly what she was thinking…they had to face the others eventually…but he vowed he would be there for her all the way.  Placing a hand upon her back , he stated, very gently, “Last night was jus’ da’ start…we’re gonna’ take dis’ one day at a time…an’ we’re gonna’ be ‘ere for ya’-all’ve us…”  The girl nodded, and he gave her a reassuring pat, “…let’s do dis’…”

Taking a deep breath; an easy day in her prayers, Kayla slowly walked out the door, with her best friend following right behind her.

.

.

.

Any and all conversations between the Autobots that had gathered in the cafeteria, ceased the moment the musical duo entered the room.  All optics immediately darted to the floor; watching in a tense silence as the teenager made her way to the human-sized table in the back.  She tried to walk with confidence, but it proved difficult, knowing that everyone was staring at her, judging by the sudden quiet.  Never the less, she pressed forward; trying only to think about where she was going.

The saboteur was right on her heels; optics going upwards to his comrades, who were now staring at him as well.  To that, he merely gave a courteous wave and a nod of the head.  Said mechs returned the gesture in recognition of words unspoken-they knew what was up.  With that in mind, Jazz made getting his morning energon his top priority, next to the girl.  Upon filling his cup with the pinkish-purple liquid, he quickly turned to his fellow ‘Bots; took one look at them gawking, and made an upwards waving motion with his hand that tried to say, “Don’t just stand there-start talking!”  Thankfully, they got the hint, and slowly, but surely, a few conversations started up again…albeit in more hushed tones than before.  Every now and then, someone would glance at the teen or jerk their thumb in her direction; no doubt she was the subject material.  The Porsche all the while, kept looking over at the girl; sipping his energon while leaning against the wall.  A few mechs came over to talk to him, but he kept the exchanges brief; getting a shoulder pat for understanding.

By that time, Kayla had sat down at the table; elbows propped up on the surface, and her head resting in her hands.  Although she couldn’t make out the words, she could clearly hear all the whispering behind her.  To that, she blearily rubbed her heavy, dead eyes…ugh…this was going to be a loooong day…

Just then, there was the sound of glass against metal, and something was slid in her direction.  In her tired state, it took a moment to register what was in front of her, but soon a delicious aroma wafted from the table…a hot meal.  Not long after, something lightly tapped her on the arm, and the following voice revealed the chef, “Um…made breakfast…”

Carly…the red head then reached for whatever was touching her hand, and a quick sweep in the palm told her what the thin piece of steel was-a fork.

From across the table, Spike, who was in the middle of finishing off an omelet, looked on at the musician, who merely twiddled the fork between her fingers-almost afraid as if the contents of the dish were going to jump up and bite her.  With a nervous clear of the throat, he prodded, “I-it’s good…w-wakey, wakey, scrambled eggs n’ bakie…”

Kayla barely flinched-only blinked a few times at his vain attempt a humor…but she knew he was only trying to cheer her up.  And speaking of food, that breakfast sure did smell appetizing.  A deep growl erupted from her stomach; reminding her, rather noisily, that she hadn’t eaten a thing since last night…she wasn’t hungry, she was starving.  So finally, after a long bout of silence and twirling silverware, she let out a feeble sigh, “T-thanks…”

Spike and Carly both looked at each other in mild relief as the girl began to dig in.  But they couldn’t help but look worried as well, for she said nothing-her face practically unreadable.  And the uneasiness of the Autobots behind her weren’t helping matters either.  The breakfast invite sounded like a good idea a short while ago, but now what?  What could they possibly talk about that sounded natural?

Just then, help arrived in the form of Chip, who quietly wheeled in from a side door; giving a “hello” to everyone as he entered.  The mechs, in turn, gave a greeting of their own, only to shift their optics to the small table; some gesturing or pointing slightly.  Following their gaze, the computer wiz immediately spotted the red head sitting nearby-and promptly froze.  The others couldn’t blame him for falling short; no one expected her to be…out, today-let alone walking in to grab a bite to eat.  A frown came upon the boy’s features as his eyes then darted to the young couple sitting with said musician; their faces casting him a look of utter desperation.

Kayla continued to munch away at the peace offering of sorts, with her head resting in one hand; her other trying to find the bacon in the darkness.  Between that, and her established, cloudy state of mind, Chip maneuvered his wheelchair next to the girl without any notice.  A quick size up of the situation made him come to a similar conclusion as Spike and Carly.  But he couldn’t just sit there and watch his friend eat in a pained silence.  Before he even knew what he was doing, his caring instincts kicked in, and he reached out and gave her hand a gentle squeeze.

The girl, who’s mind was elsewhere, hadn’t expected the sudden touch and noticeably jumped a little in shock.  The computer wiz withdrew his hand in haste; praying she wouldn’t take the friendly gesture as an intrusion.  Upon her exhale of a shaky breath, he wanted to quell her fear; say something…but in the heat of the moment, all that came out was, “It’s me.”

The teen turned her head slightly at the familiar voice; her face reddening as she stammered a quiet response, “Oh…h-hey Chip…”  To explain her burst of surprise, she added in, “You’re the only one I can’t hear ‘round here-always sneakin’ up on me…”

The boy managed a chuckle…but nothing could hide how nervous and fake it sounded.  If the red head noticed, she didn’t say anything; only turned back to the breakfast that got interrupted.  For a long minute, Chip watched her; taking notice of the way her eyes twitched slightly every now and then…he could only imagine the amount of pain she was trying to hold back.  Stealing a glance at his two friends, they’d long since finished eating, and were now giving stares just as intently-almost sending a silent dare of who was going to speak first.

Ironically, it was Kayla who broke the tension.  Without turning, she muttered, “So…what’re you guys gonna’ do today?”

The trio looked at each other; trying to overcome the shock of the abrupt announcement.  After what seemed like ages, Carly let out a small cough, “Um…well, I-was-just going to take a drive with Bumblebee, with Chip doing reconnaissance…”  A pause, and then, “…you can-come with us if you want…”

If the present awkwardness were any indication, the musician knew very well a drive with the same company wouldn’t be any better.  But she couldn’t ignore the telling in the blonde’s tone-this was out of pure generosity, and not some preconceived order.  With a bit of hesitancy, she mumbled, “N-no thanks…I-think I have early morning shift with Prowl-if I remember right…”

The threesome could only nod; their timidness making them forget she wouldn’t be able to see the gesture.  But before they could realize this, they were all blindsided by what she uttered next, “So, Spike…what about you and Sparkplug?”

Carly and Chip could only look on, dumbfounded, then quickly turned to the young mechanic, who’s mouth was hanging open in equal shock.  With his eyes darting around and tension mounting, he desperately tried to drum up an answer.  He knew very well he couldn’t ignore his own father, or at least not the topic, but at a time like this?  And he never imagined it would be her who’d bring it up.  All the while, the girl just sat there patiently for an answer; her face remaining stoic.  With a hard gulp and a shaky intake of air, Spike finally replied, “Y-yeah, we’re, um…gonna’ work in the-lab…together…”  He then tensed up; expecting the worst.

But to the surprise of all, the teen merely nodded, “…good…”  Her head lowered a little as she added in, almost inaudible, “…very good…”  There was another long, uneasy silence amongst the group, during which, the red head used her fork to make a sweep of the plate; checking if there was any food left.  Finding none, she slowly rose from the table; clearing her throat, “Well, uh…tthhanks for-breakfast.  It was really good.”  She then felt around for the plate, “I’ll just…”

But before Kayla could find it, Carly quickly snatched both the china and the silverware; uttering in haste, “Oh, y-you don’t have to-bother with the dishes-we’ll take care of it.”

The musician stood there a moment; contemplating the real motive behind her generosity.  But with no mood to argue, she finally gave in with a simple sigh and shrug of her shoulders.  With cane in hand, she turned on her heel and began to make her way back across the room; calling out to no one in particular, “I-guess I-better get going; see what Prowl’s up to…”

From behind, Jazz, who’d long since finished his energon, piped up, “Ya’ gonna’ be okay?”

The girl never stopped, but offered a response, “I remember what ya’ said…I’ll be fine…”  With no other words spoken, the gathered Autobots looked on as the teen disappeared through the sliding doors.

It wasn’t long into the evening yesterday, when all the mechs present were given a peculiar order from Optimus Prime to gather in the Ark’s control room.  Naturally, their curiosity was perked; mainly because their leader sent the call via their private com’s and not the loud speaker.  Also taking into account the fact that it wasn’t too often everyone was ordered to a mass assembly, so most were quick in arriving to the designated location.  Even Prowl, the second in command, was left to wonder what the sudden fuss was all about; Teletraan-One hadn’t picked up Decepticon activity, so what could it be?  That was the thought on everyone’s mind as they all entered the large room, with the mech in question waiting patiently for them.  Once things settled down, Prime minced no words, and solemnly broke the news he himself discovered only an hour before.

To say they were shocked was an understatement.

Kayla-the upbeat, happy, cheer-all musician they’d known for months, would now be looked upon in a new light.

It certainly explained a lot more than it didn’t.

But to have your own creator die, in battle no less, at that young an age…it must have practically destroyed her.

What made the situation all the more difficult, was that Optimus hadn’t given them any order exactly on what to do.  All he said afterwards was, “We’ve all suffered losses…and I trust each one of you, that when the time comes, you’ll know what to do…”  And that was that.

Hardly any words were exchanged, nor could be said, concerning the matter, but whether it be because of close kinship, or an other worldly sixth sense, everyone had silently, but unanimously agreed upon one thing-the topic could never be spoken about, unless she brought it up herself.

But that didn’t mean they couldn’t show their care and concern in other ways.

As Kayla presently made her way down the Ark’s corridors towards the control room, she was soon passed by many Autobots; all of whom had hesitant delivery, but never the less, tried to converse with her.  Topics ranged from the weather, to the latest reports, which technically, had no lasting relevancy, but was all in a desperate attempt to give her back some type of normalcy.  And every short discussion ended with a more than friendly pat on the back.  However, for the others who held a more gregarious attitude, they chose to avoid any discussion until the right time presented itself.  Even Sideswipe, who usually gave the teen a daily, friendly jab, wisely backed off and took his pranks elsewhere.  But the girl could feel the compassion in both their hand gestures and words, and just took it all in grateful stride…she knew they knew.

.

.

.

“Hey, Prowl…”

The tactician, who was typing away on Teletraan-One, jumped slightly and snapped his head downward to see Kayla standing next to him.  All he could do was stare at her a moment; blinking a few times as his logic circuits went into overdrive.  He thought she would’ve went home after…last night…what was she doing here?  Although many questions presented themselves, the only thing that came out was, “Oh-uh…good morning…”

The two merely kept still a few moments; both wondering what to say and/or how to say it.  Finally, the girl let out a sigh.  Knowing she was creating more of an enigma by the second, she nervously shifted on her feet and muttered, “Um…so-you-usually have stuff for me to take to-Optimus…anythin’ today?”

Her words made the second in command suddenly remember that she had the early morning shift with him, and his increasing headache lessened a bit.  Perhaps she felt that sticking to the routine would take her mind off…things.  Playing along so as not to arouse her, he slowly reached over to the computer console and grabbed a large stack of ten or so, human-sized, data pads.  As he handed them to her, he explained, “Eh-ahem-just some maintenance reports to be brought to his attention…I-downloaded them already.”

“Oh…okay…” was all the teen could say as she shifted her grip to carry a stack of information as long as her arm.  When she finally found a steady position, she carefully turned around and began to make her way back towards the entrance.

For a few seconds, the police car watched her in a tense silence as she tried to make off with the loot.  But maneuverability was proving slow, due to the weight in her one arm.  A few steps, and she’d have to shrug her shoulder to keep the data pads in place as she tapped her cane with the other hand.  With the scene growing more guilt-worthy by the second, Prowl called out, “Um…I hadn’t realized how tall that pile was.”  He began rising from his chair, adding in, “Perhaps I’ll just take them myself.”

But the musician, who was already halfway through the door at that point, quickly gave a counter, “Nah; I can handle it…t-thanks anyway.”

The tactician was about to retort, but at the last second, decided against it.  He wanted so much to walk over and take the chore off her shoulders, and he would’ve done so, had he not considered that it’d only start an argument.  And a fight with her was the last thing they needed…especially at a time like this.  So, with a deep sigh and severe reluctance, he let her go.

It wasn’t long into Kayla’s trek to Optimus Prime’s quarters, when another mech passed her in the hall.  The gunner, known to all as Bluestreak, glanced downward; took one look at the girl trotting by, and found his optics widening in an instant.  He immediately halted in his tracks and swiveled around; grabbing a few data pads in the process.  The sudden intrusion caused the red head to stop as well, giving a muffled, “Wha-?”

The ‘Bot gave a quick, jittery answer, “Uh-here, um…why don’t I carry some of those for ya’…”

Recognizing the young voice, the teen started to pull away, “I-it’s okay, I-“

But the gunner continued plucking data pads from her grasp; shaking his head and replying in a nervous stutter, “N-n-n-n-no; it’s totally cool-I like to help out.”  Giving half the stack back to her, he added in, “You just take this and I’ll take this, okay?”

With the mech’s incessant chatter, the girl knew it’d be a long while before she could even begin to argue with him.  Although, thinking about it, there wasn’t really anything to fight about-he was only trying to lend a hand, especially given the circumstances thrust upon both her and him.  Plus, she was just-plain-tired-of everything right now.  So, with an exasperated huff, she moaned, “Alright…”

Despite the situation, the gunner actually smiled briefly; happy to assist her with something.  To that, he let out a breath of relief-not realizing he was holding his breath in the first place.  But his grin dissipated when the girl said nothing more; only continued the walk that got interrupted.  Taking her exit as his cue, he quickly came to trot next to her, and the two were off.

For the first few minutes, Bluestreak kept quiet, but only because he struggled for subject matter.  He daren’t say something and wind up putting his foot in his mouth.  He may have been one of the younger members of the team, but even he knew there was a time and place.  To occupy himself, he looked over the five data pads all clenched in his fist.  Maintenance reports, supply lists, battle tactics; no doubt these were for Optimus.  Unfortunately, the boring stats couldn’t keep the mech from glancing down to the teen walking next to him-his spark beating faster as he grew more nervous.

The pair’s silent walk continued for a few more minutes, until Kayla gave a small cough to get his attention.  With slight hesitancy, she muttered, “Um…t-thanks for helpin’ me with this…”

The ‘Bot jumped a tad when she suddenly began speaking, and quickly scrambled for a rebuttal, “Oh-er-no problem.  Like I said, I like to help out.  I-it’s just, ya’ know, when I saw ya’ there, it looked like you were havin’ trouble, and I didn’t want ya’ to strain yourself, so-well, not that you’re not tough or anything, ‘cause I know you are, but I’m just sayin’ that even if you couldn’t do it, y-“  The gunner immediately stopped himself, upon realizing he was rambling.  Running a hand down his face, he said, albeit much quieter, “…shutting up now…”

The red head was about to comment, but then thought better of it and kept her mouth shut.  No sense in starting anything, for soon enough, the twosome finally arrived at Optimus Prime’s quarters.  The girl used her cane to knock on the massive door, and a voice was heard from within, “Come in.”

The two hatches swished open, and the duo entered the room.  Their leader was seated at his desk; typing away on his computer, but he immediately swiveled in his chair to face the newcomers upon hearing them enter.  His gaze first went to the gunner, who looked nervous beyond any doubt.  But the leader’s optics then shifted to the teenager, who looked a little worse for wear, and he stared a moment before greeting, “Hello Kayla-Bluestreak.”  He gave a respectful nod to both of them.

The girl was the first to speak; stepping forward as she did, “H-hi, Optimus, um…just-got some data pads from Prowl for ya’.”  She turned her head slightly as she added in, “T-there’s a lot, so-Blue insisted on helping me-carry them.”

Prime carefully took the stored information from her; looking up at the gunner at his mentioning.  To that, the young mech merely shrugged, as if to say, “Just trying to help.”  With equal care, the 18-wheeler retrieved the data pads off Bluestreak as well; giving him a nod of approval in the process.  After subspacing the information for later, he then addressed the pair, “Thank you-both of you.  I very much appreciate it.”

The gunner nervously rubbed the back of his head, “Oh, uh-no-trouble at all.  Just, uh-tryin’ to help…”  Taking a few steps back, he continued, “So, uh…I’ll just-be-on my way then…”

The leader nodded; knowing very well the mech was growing more uncomfortable by the second, “I won’t keep you then.  Thanks for the assistance.”

With nothing more to say, Bluestreak hastily took his leave.

Optimus regarded Kayla for a long moment, who was standing at his feet in deep thought.  Tilting his head slightly, he asked very gently, “Are you alright?”

Kayla turned her head up in his general direction; contemplating what she was about to say.  But knowing they were alone, and his tone of voice, it was enough for her to open up once more-at least to the person who was with her first hand.  Taking a deep breath, she began in a low tone, “Everyone’s kept pretty quiet…they’re really nervous.”

Prime leaned in a tad-his voice becoming more parental, “It’s understandable…they just don’t want to upset you in any way.”

“Oh, I know”, she said; her head lowering a bit, “I know they care…”

She trailed off from there, but the mech knew there was more she wished to say.  With a tiny nod; ever so carefully, he prodded, “If something is troubling you, you know you can tell me.  What’s on your mind?”

The teen’s unseeing eyes darted about in hesitation.  But keeping his words in mind, she managed out, “Um…this morning…J-Jazz told me that-you-called my mom-last night…told her what happened…”

“I did”, was all he replied.

Feeling it safe to continue, she muttered, “W-well…what’d she say?”

Optimus blinked a few times, wondering just how he was going to explain this.  All he knew for sure was that the story would take a while.  That said, he slowly bent down and carefully lifted the girl into his hands, and placed her atop his desk.  In turn, Kayla sat down and settled into a comfortable position as he swiveled to face her.  With a sigh, and a clear of the vocals, the leader began to explain.

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.

A red haired woman glanced at the wall clock hanging above the kitchen sink-7:30…Jazz usually brought Kayla home by now.  Granted, there were times they were running late, but she always called if such were the case…what could’ve happened?

…maybe her daughter went back too early…

The mother was startled out of her thoughts at the sound of the phone ringing; maybe that was her.  With that possibility in mind, she quickly crossed the kitchen and sat down at the breakfast nook; grabbing the receiver off the wall in the process.  Her voice attempting to hold back the pain still lingering over the past few weeks, she answered, “Hello-Matthews’ residence.”

From the other end of the line, a rich, deep voice started, “Mrs. Matthews?”

Not expecting the older tone, it took a moment for the woman to realize just who was calling her…and she couldn’t believe it.  With utter bewilderment, she managed out, “…Optimus…?”

“Yes, it is I”, he replied with a sigh.  On a more apologetic note, he added, “Please; forgive me for intruding on your grief.”

On your grief…

The mother’s eyes went wide in realization…and it made her heart sink, as she muttered above barely a whisper, “…oh no…s-she told you…”

“Yes…but only after we discovered the notice first”, Prime explained; slowly and gently, “We knew something was wrong since she arrived back, but we daren’t force her to talk.  She felt it’d only burden us so…but we told her otherwise…and it all came out…I’m so sorry.”

Somehow, Mrs. Matthews knew this was coming…but her grief-stricken mind didn’t want to accept it.  They only had the Autobots’ best interest in mind…oh, Lord, she prayed they didn’t take it the wrong way.  Her voice shaky, and awash with a newly-opened pain, she stuttered, “P-please, sir-er-Optimus…I know w-what this looks like, but-believe me-we trust you all with our lives.  We…w-we wanted to tell you, but…I guess we were just so upset, or-I don’t know.  We didn’t know when to-how…”  Her voice hitched slightly as a tear ran down her face.

“I understand”, the mech soothed over the line, “What’s important is that we must all do our part to help one another when tragedy occurs…we’ll do whatever we can.”

Another tear escaped the distressed woman; this time, out of the leader’s endless amount of selflessness…the world needed more people like him.  But it soon occurred to her there had to be more to this phone call than just to show sympathy, especially if Prime himself was dialing.  After a few seconds to gather herself, she asked quietly, “What about Kayla?”

“Jazz is with her”, Optimus reassured, “…and I know it’ll be awhile.”

It was then, in that moment, an odd, albeit small amount of relief came over the mother.  Her daughter wasn’t alone…and that’s all that mattered.  With a sigh, she replied, “Good…it means she’s healing.”  A pause to consider the two, inseparable best friends, and then, “…if she needs to stay-let her stay…I know she’s in good hands.”

Apparently, she gave the ‘Bot something to consider, for the line went quiet a moment.  But soon, he inquired on a caring note, “And you?”

Mrs. Matthews was thrown a beat-she hadn’t expected him to ask about her.  How was she to answer?  Her life was still in the process of being thrown upside down, with recovery a far away dream-for her anyway.  Half of her soul was now lost forever…or was it?  She still had Kayla, and she, thank God, was very much alive.  With another breath of tiny relief, she answered softly, “She’s not invincible, but she’s strong…he made her that way…if I have her, I’ll survive too…”

There was another long pause, before Prime spoke once more; both a pained and sympathetic lilt to his voice, “If it’s any consolation, I know what it’s like to be separated from your bondmate.”

It took a second for comprehension to dawn, and when it did, the woman asked in utter shock, “…you’re married?”

“So to speak”, he explained in a far away tone, “…my love, Elita-One, leads a team of femmes on Cybertron…”  He then added more softly, “I worry for her every moment.”

Mrs. Matthews knew very well, through Kayla and Jazz, that Transformer women existed.  However, it was something else to find out that one of them was a wife-to Optimus Prime of all people.  And there was no hiding the fact that he deeply missed her.  Suddenly, the woman’s own memories of her husband came flooding back-the day he came home on one shore leave with a black eye, various scars, and a minor sprain-or the days she would find herself just sitting and praying, both silently and aloud, that Pete was okay-that he was still out there, and would return home in one piece.  That’s all it ever was; guessing and waiting…and now, she didn’t have to anymore…

Fate had a cruel sense of humor…and now, she prayed the joke wouldn’t fall on Optimus.

With all of this in mind, the mother finally spoke with a sigh, “…sometimes I wonder if that’s worse…not knowing…at least we had some kind of closure…but-you still have hope…”

“You do as well”, Prime answered; his tone becoming a bit lighter than before, “Hope for yourself, your daughter, and a new day-don’t forget that…hope is a powerful thing, and one no one can afford to lose.”

At that point, the woman began to silently weep…but her mouth sported the tiniest smile.  The leader had been given the name Optimus for a reason…and God knows they needed it now.  She knew she’d still be sad for a long time, but now, she also had a reason to be happy, and the hope that everything would be okay…which brought to mind but one thought.

There’s a lot of people in this world, and they say that when God and the guardian angels are busy protecting people, and can’t get to everyone, they send regular guys to help.

And it’s true.

With a hitch to her voice, she spoke, “You’re a good man, Optimus…don’t forget that…”  The line went silent, and she continued, “Thank you…for a lot of things, just-thank you.”

With a tone that spoke volumes for his hidden smile and endless amount of care and love, Prime replied kindly, “You’re welcome, Mrs. Matthews.”

Remembering that fateful day at the house, the woman smiled bigger and sniffed, “Please…call me Darla…”

.

.

.

His story finished, Optimus Prime leaned back a tad in his chair and let his words sink in to the teenager still seated atop his desk.  Kayla was hugging her legs against her chest, and had her face buried in them, if only to try and stop the silent tears she was shedding.  It’s not that she didn’t understand Prime’s reasoning, it was just the way he spoke-the thought and care he put into every word.  He didn’t have to take it upon himself to tell the others.  He didn’t have to make her father’s death his problem.  He didn’t have to make the call…but he did-all to make sure she didn’t lose hope in herself.

Suddenly, the whole “alone is strong” thing sounded really dumb.

Quickly wiping her dead eyes, she tried to turn in the mech’s general direction, and sighed; lifting her head, “Jazz was right; I was only hurting myself by gettin’ all bottled up.”  With a shake of the head, she added, “I-I’m sorry, I-I was stupid.  I should’ve told you in the first place.”

Optimus gave the girl a pat on the back, and replied in a gentle tone, “You needn’t be sorry for anything…we all have different ways of dealing with grief.  Admittance and acceptance is the first step.”

The red head slowly nodded in understanding…and strangely enough…she felt better…granted, it was only a small amount, but still.  But then, that brought up the question of how Prime handled loss.  Being the leader for who knows how long, there had to have been plenty of things he’d lost to the war-things he’d seen and done that no one else has, or should.  And yet, he continued to lead on without losing his gumption and will.  How’d he do it?  

There was a long pause before the girl asked quietly, “What about you?”  When the leader didn’t answer, she continued, “You have the Matrix of Leadership…and the Matrix is where all the sparks go…you’re carrying your friends all the time…like having Heaven inside you…”

Surprised at her choice of subject matter, the mech regarded her a moment, before answering, “Primus dwells in the Matrix as well, and he’s our creator…he lives in all of us.”

The teen raised an eyebrow; a matter of fact lilt to her voice, “By ‘us’, you mean the Autobots?”

This time, it was Optimus who had to think.  What was it with Humans and Cybertronians that both cultures were so much the same, and yet, at the same time, so far apart?  Of course, by “us”, he meant the Autobots…but that was back when he lived on Cybertron.  Now on Earth, with new friends to consider…did “us” include humans too?  But how could a creator of mechanical life create organics as well?  Maybe he’d get the answer if he asked a question of his own.  That he did, “You have a God as well, correct?”

Kayla tilted her head with a look of thought, “Yeah…and in my religion, He created everything, so…does that mean-He created Primus?”

The leader blinked a few times; almost as confused as her.  He rubbed the back of his head as he started, “We’re not sure where Primus came from exactly…”  A sudden thought occurred to him as he rubbed his chin, “Come to think of it, no one really knows where they came from-why they’re here, or where they’re going.  We hope, we believe, but we don’t know…and for some, it scares them.”  With a sigh, he added, “So they race around; chase wealth-chase power…”

The monster known as Megatron came to mind as the girl finished, “…just so they won’t have to worry what life’s all about.”

“Exactly”, Prime nodded.  The teen shifted her position so she was sitting cross legged with her head resting in her hands-still looking discouraged.  There was a pause before the mech rested a hand as best he could on her shoulder, and spoke in kind, “All I’m trying to say, is that although I never knew your father, I know he wouldn’t want to see you like this…and I know this because you don’t like for others to dwell in pain for very long.”  The girl’s head rose a bit in response, and he continued, “Part of him is still alive because of you…physically gone, but not forgotten.  Your love for him will go on forever, and as long as you keep him in your spark-er, heart, in many ways, he’ll never be dead…he lives in you.”

By that time, the girl’s head was directed skyward, as she let the ‘Bot’s words sink in for a second time.  It was a lot to consider…and she realized, with much relief, that a little weight had been lifted from her shoulders.  How did Prime always know the right thing to say?  There was a pause before she replied, rather dryly, “…either you’ve done this before, or you’ve seen The Lion King one too many times.”

To that, the leader actually chuckled slightly as he gathered her into his hands and gently placed her on the floor.  After gaining her footing, the red head unfolded her cane, but didn’t make a move to leave.  Instead, she faced the mech’s direction one more time, and he, in turn, continued to watch her.  A short pause later, Kayla spoke; still pained, but also touched, “Thanks, Optimus…for everything…”

The girl’s future starting to look brighter, said leader gave a tiny smile under his faceplate, “You’re very welcome.”

.

.

.

The sultry sounds of the radio playing and the engine humming were the only things that could be heard as Jazz drove Kayla home.  With a concerned frown, his hologram driver turned to steal a glance at his charge, and found her slumped in her seat; head resting against the window, and eyes closed.  Whether she was asleep or not, he didn’t know, but if she was, best not to wake her.  But he daren’t turn the music off, or the silence following would drive him crazy.  So, he continued along the road; content to listen to the soft rock station at a low volume.

However, the girl sitting in the passenger seat was very much awake; glad also to have some kind of background noise to fill the gap she was creating.  It’s not that she didn’t want to talk, she just didn’t know what to say.  The last few weeks and the past few days, especially, left her utterly exhausted, causing her current slump.  She was tired-mentally tired-of everything at the moment, leaving her to wonder just how she managed to keep her feet on the ground and her head in the game amidst all the madness.

Her mind beginning to wander, the teen almost didn’t notice that a new song was beginning to play; its tune entrancing and melody fairly even-not fast, but not slow either.  After a good minute or so of the instrumental start, a male voice began to sing…and the words flowing through the Autobot’s speakers caused the red head to tilt up a tad.  With a perked interest, she quietly began to listen.

 

_I feel my wings have broken in your hands_

_I feel the words unspoken inside-and they pull you under_

_And I would give you anything you want, but know-you were all I wanted_

_And all my dreams are fallin’ down_

_Crawlin’ around, and-_

_S_ _omebody save me_

_Let your warm hands break right through_

_Somebody save me_

_I don’t care how you do it, just stay-stay_

_Come on…I’ve been waitin’ for you_

_I see the world has folded in your heart_

_I feel the waves crash down inside-and they pulled me under_

_I would give you anything you want, but know-you were all I wanted_

_And all my dreams have fallen down_

_Crawlin’ around, and-_

_Somebody save me_

_Let your warm hands break right through_

_Somebody save me_

_I don’t care how you do it, just stay-stay_

_Come on…I’ve been waitin’ for you_

 

Was it just her, or did the Porsche turn up the volume slightly?  And did he purposely choose this song, or did the powers that be wish to finally shine on her for once?  Either way, the lyrics were a God send.  If anything, it made her answer her own question, and feel all the more stupid; who else took the time to help her but her friends?  The ones who listened to her cries and didn’t mock-only gave whatever they could to let her know they cared.  The ones who didn’t think her a sissy-only tried to give her strength.

The one who held her close, with the innate ability to listen to words unspoken…who knew what it was like.

…the one…

“Hey, Jazz?” Kayla asked, as the song began to fade out.

If the saboteur was startled by her sudden speech, he didn’t show it.  However, his hologram turned to her with a mixture of interest and concern, “Yeah?”

The teen lifted her head from the glass and opened her pale blue eyes.  Of course, all that met her was more darkness, but the gesture, if anything, would let him know to pay attention.  There was a long moment of quiet, save for the radio (which he’d turned down once more), as she sorted out what to say exactly.  But the Autobot waited patiently; letting her have all the time in the world.  Finally, with a heavy sigh, she softly managed out, “Um…I…t-thanks…for-bein’ there…f-for last night.”  Her face still mournful, she added, “I-I know it-doesn’t look like it, but…I-actually do feel a lot better…you were right…”

To that, the ‘Bot’s driver nodded, and replied, very gently, “No problem…dat’s what family does fer’ each other.”

Family.

That’s what he considered her-family.

And right now, it was everything she needed…and he knew it.  Of course, for the saboteur, she was a part of the Autobots long before. But through his brotherly words, only now did the girl come to realize this.  The very thought was overwhelming-the hope beginning to rise; how much he always cared…her heart began to pound with a new life…as long as her best friend was around, she still had something to live for.

And for the first time in weeks…she smiled.

It was all the more to make Jazz’s engine rev in utter joy-it was a sign-the first sign of his old friend trying to come back.  Such was this, that he noted in a lighter tone, “Heeey, now…now dat’s better…now we’re gettin’ somewhere…like I said, jus’ take it one day at a time, an’ try not ta’ worry.”

“Why’s that?” Kayla asked.

With his driver softly patting her hand, Jazz soothed, “ ‘Cause ‘round ‘ere, ya’ always got a shoulder ta’ lean on.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Another long chapter I couldn't find a stopping place for, but they won't be this long after this.
> 
> You also might have to read over the scenes in "Guitar Hero" where Kayla was captured again if you don't recognize some of the dialogue in her dream at the beginning here. But I promise you, things are gonna' get better for her.


	14. Dream

In answer to everyone’s silent prayers, the following week went fairly smooth.

Kayla’s state of mind and soul was still slightly in question, but thankfully, the outlook was hopeful.  The past few days saw her beginning to talk a bit more, and another day got her smiling again.  Of course, these usual common traits of hers weren’t as spontaneous as the way she was before, but as of now, anything relatively happy coming from her was a good sign.

Her guitar was still gathering dust, but the ‘Bots knew her musical passion wouldn’t leave her that easily, if ever.

On the seventh day, Sideswipe worked up the nerve to ask her, once again, if she wished to help him prank his brother-the bag of marbles still waiting in the wings.

…and once again, the girl said, no…she wasn’t ready for that hurdle yet…

The teenager hated to disappoint him again, but she wasn’t about to do anything radical until she was fully up and running.  Although she was plagued by nightmares a lot less, the Sandman still refused to visit her much.  But thankfully, it seemed her friends noticed her worn down nature, for she soon found herself doing much simpler and less strenuous tasks than she was normally assigned.  Too beat to care, the red head just accepted it and continued on-she knew they were only looking out for her.  This brought to mind the many conversations she began to become a part of once more.  It wasn’t long before she noticed the mechs’ regular speech coming back…how they gradually talked to her like they used to, as if the horrors of the past month were slowly dissipating.

Maybe it was rightfully so, for Kayla was slowly having to get used to the fact that her father was dead, and he wasn’t coming back.  Her tears kept her up at night, but she constantly reminded herself of Optimus’ words-he wasn’t gone; not completely.  She still had memories to fall back on, and her love for him was still just as strong as ever.

He would just be watching over her from above, rather than the mortal plane, now…and his soul resting in a peaceful paradise salved her conscious a tad.

And of course, she wasn’t without friends.  The Autobots and her fellow humans were all ready to lend their ears and audios to her if need be.  And naturally, when he wasn’t on a mission, Jazz stuck to the girl like glue; having lengthy conversations with her in the sanctuary that was his quarters.

With each passing day, Kayla felt just a tiny bit better…just a little, tiny bit.  Her duties kept her mind off things a tad; gave her some kind of purpose, so she was no longer just a walking, automaton.  Both the leader’s words and Jazz’s mere presence was enough to keep her going-feeling alive.  She knew as long as they were around, she’d be okay.

And for the first time in over a month, everyone breathed a sigh of relief that things were finally, and gradually returning somewhat to normal.

…until…

.

.

.

The doors to the med bay practically exploded off the doorway as Ratchet and his apprentice, First Aid, zoomed in at light speed and screeched to a halt; sirens blaring at full force.  Wheeljack and the microscope known as Perceptor came barreling in soon after, and immediately helped Aid unload the one mech Ratchet was carrying in his alternate form.  No sooner was the task done, the ambulance transformed, and together, the medic/scientist quartet placed the patient onto the nearest birth as gently as they could.  With saws, spanners, and all kinds of other tools in hand, the doctor and his assistant set to work, with the two scientists waiting on the sidelines.

Things weren’t looking great for Jazz’s battered and unconscious form.

The latest Decepticon battle saw the Autobots facing the destructive power of the Constructacons, who were building some kind of power drainage system for Megatron.  Thanks to a little spy work from Jazz, Mirage, and Bumblebee, the plot was soon uncovered, and a fleet of ‘Bots were at the scene in a flash.  Needless to say, all heck broke loose, and the ‘Cons’ newest doomsday device was reduced to rubble.

But our heroes didn’t have much better luck. Bad enough they had to go toe to toe with toughened cement mixers and plows, things only turned worse when the construction vehicles combined to form the mechanized Godzilla known as Devastator.  And although the ‘Bots were run ragged in their fight, only one would suffer the monster’s devilish fury.  As the enormous Decepticon geared up for a fist slam, it was Jazz who met the business end of the giant’s right cross when he pushed Bluestreak and Bumblebee out of the line of fire.  The gargantuan punch sent the saboteur flying, and he took a painful landing in a crumpled heap like a tossed aside rag doll.

But just when it seemed the nightmarish scene was over, Rumble only added insult to injury by causing a massive earthquake, leading the noble mechs to be thrown off their feet.  With the induced kayos, the ‘Bots could only watch in horror as a large crack snaked its way up to their friend.  The Porsche, in his battered state, hadn’t the strength to dodge, and was merely along for the ride as he fell into a newly opened ravine.

Ratchet and First Aid now huddled around Jazz’s prone body; trying desperately to remove his totaled chest plate to get at the torn parts underneath.  This certainly wasn’t the first time a comrade was brought in critical condition, but the anxiety was still there, none the less.  Their friend saved their lives-now they had to save his.

And not surprisingly, Kayla was at the med bay doors in an instant the moment she found out; her breaths hitched and eyes teary.

The gathered mechs hung their heads in sorrow…they understood their bond-how the girl wanted to be with him.  And if roles were reversed, the saboteur would be at her side-offering support.  But the medics needed to operate right away, and they couldn’t afford to have any distractions what so ever. With a pained spark, Ratchet had no choice but to literally slam the door on her face.

Bumblebee took her home; trying everything to calm her down.  But the teen couldn’t help unleashing tears of worry.  Only a month since the worst day in her life and now this?!  Why?  Why?!  WHY?!

“Just keep praying”, the Beetle said as they drove, “You know you can’t lose hope…have faith.”

The girl did just that…and didn’t sleep a wink the whole night.

.

.

.

“Jazz’s vitals are stabilizing, sir”, First Aid reported as he looked over the monitor next to the operating table.

Ratchet’s only reply was a grunt of acknowledgement, for he was too engrossed in removing a terminal in the saboteur’s arm to be repaired later-or, in his terms, “R and R ing.”

The medic’s assistant knew when his boss was in one of his moods, so he wisely remained quiet and returned to reconfiguring the patient’s transformation module.  The ‘Bot could only shake his head at the whole situation; they’d been at it for hours, now-starting in the early afternoon and continuing all through the night.  Even with Wheeljack and Perceptor lending a hand at times, there were just some things only a specified medic could handle.  At one point, he managed to glance up at his mentor, and immediately took notice of the deep shade of blue his optics had turned-a clear sign of exhaustion.  Looking over the body, there was still so much to do…it was times like this First Aid wished he were a senior surgeon right now…to be able to take over completely and let the doctor catch some much needed rest.

Meanwhile, Ratchet thanked Primus for Aid’s report; a catastrophe after all this hard work was the last thing they needed.  But as the medic worked on in silence, a twinge of guilt ran through his spark, as he couldn’t help but think that part of this whole mess was his fault.  If only he’d gotten in that ravine quicker, the Porsche might not have leaked as much energon as he did.  But the doctor was forced to wait at the cliff’s edge while Hound and Trailbreaker pulled Jazz out.  

Ratchet was to the Autobots like McCoy was to the Enterprise-in many ways, an old, country doctor.  He was one of the few who hadn’t succumb to an update of any sort; choosing that good old fashioned elbow grease, wit, and experience was far greater than any new fangled tool.  So far, he hadn’t lost a single patient because of it, and he planned to keep it that way…but the recent situation was soon changing his opinion.  Back on Cybertron, he could get into any nook and cranny some idiot managed to get stuck in and unstuck them in minutes.  But now, on Earth, with this uneven terrain, coupled with a boxy transformation that couldn’t take all the bumps and dips, Ratchet finally had to admit that his ambulance mode just wasn’t built for off -roading like a truck or jeep.  Maybe it was high time to consider a “fashion change”.

Those search and rescue hummers seemed to be the new thing-now they could take anything…but unfortunately, he’d have to abide by the color code for such a vehicle.

A red and lime green Ratchet running into battle?  Oh no…that color belonged to the red van known as Ironhide, who was once the victim of two bored twins who watched reruns of Scooby Doo and decided to add the Mystery Machine to the Autobot ranks…

The doctor would have to ponder it later, for suddenly, one of Jazz’s fuel lines began to spurt.  But thankfully, First Aid was on top of things and quickly passed him the patching adhesive.  With a nod of thanks, Ratchet plugged up the hole, thus averting another problem.  He proceeded to wipe his hands with a cloth; noting the pinkish-red energon stain it left.  It was then the color brought a certain red head to mind, and once again, he cringed inside.  He hated to kick Kayla out of the med bay, especially after all the times she added her comedy/musical act to the road of recovery for many of his patients.  But he just couldn’t have any distractions.  It was for Jazz’s own good…making him wonder how the teenager was taking all of this, considering her recent circumstances.

.

.

.

Ratchet wasn’t surprised when Kayla entered the med bay the next morning.

It had only been an hour since the operation was finally finished, when the doctor heard the sound of a tapping cane and looked up from a data pad to see the girl standing in the doorway.  Without her sunglasses on, he was able to notice her bloodshot eyes…and the way she leaned on one leg slightly failed to mask her weariness.

A sleepless night for both of them, he figured.

“Hey, Ratch…” she mumbled as she made her way across the threshold.

The medic knew what she was really saying, and apparently, she knew he knew, for she said nothing else.  Then again, no other words were necessary.  With a simple sigh of, “Mornin’…” the mech rose from his chair and gently scooped her into his grasp.  His stride slow, but steady, he came to stand next to the birth on which Jazz laid.

No sooner did the ambulance set the teen down upon the large bed, she immediately reached out and felt around.  Finding her friend’s arm, she carefully followed it down until she made it to Jazz’s enormous hand.  Settling in between his thumb and pointer finger, she latched on to whatever she could of him and gave him a loving squeeze.  It wasn’t until a full minute later that she finally spoke, rather softly, “How is he?”

There was a pause as Ratchet considered the day and night operation, and everything he and his comrades went through to fix him.  But all he could say was, “He’s brave-that’s what.  Devastator really did a number on him…but he’ll live.”  The red head nodded; exerting a sigh of immense relief-it was all the words she wanted to hear.  Meanwhile, the ambulance looked on at his patient, who was far away in a peaceful slumber.  With this in mind, he went on to explain, “I had to use the most powerful sedatives I had…he’ll be out for a while.”

A moment of silence went by as Kayla considered the doctor’s words.  But soon, she squeezed the saboteur’s hand harder, muttering, “I don’t want him to wake up alone…not after this…he did it for me-I’ll do it for him.”

The medic nodded; knowing when somebody needed a moment.  And after what he did the other night, it only seemed fair that he get kicked out for a while.  He gave her back a gentle pat as he replied, “I understand…I’ll leave you two be.”  With that, he turned on his heel and began to leave.

He was almost to the door when the girl called, “Ratchet?”

To that, he turned around, “Yes?”

The teen turned her head in his direction and blinked a few times, “You sound exhausted…you should get some rest; I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

The mech was about to protest when a yawn escaped him.  There was no denying it-he was tired to the spark; last night left him utterly drained of almost all his energy…his recharge birth never looked so good.  His shoulders slouching, he knew she’d made a good point-there was no way she was leaving the Porsche’s side anytime soon.  So, with a smile at her concern for him, he heaved, “Sounds like a plan.”

He began to turn once more, only for another shout to halt him again, “And Ratch?”

To that, he turned around-again, “Yes?”

There was a pause, before the girl let a tiny smile show as she huffed in relief, “Thank you…”

Ratchet’s own grin became larger; knowing the immense amount of gratitude behind those two little words.  Shrugging, he returned, “Just doing my job.”  With a final glance, the doctor retired to recharge, leaving the musical duo alone.

Kayla leaned into Jazz’s hand, letting her fingers trace the inside of his palm.  A tear ran down her cheek, as she came to realize how close she was to losing him.  She knew very well her heart would never be able to take it if such a thing ever happened, and she thanked the Lord almighty a thousand times over-both for Ratchet’s existence and her prayers being answered.  Bumblebee was right…she couldn’t lose faith…and because of that, she still had her best friend.  Now, all she had to do was wait…

…and wait…

The day proved to drag on at a very slow pace, but the teen remained at the saboteur’s side; caressing his hand and whispering a countless mirad of things to him.  She only wished he’d awaken soon…a day and night without sleep was starting to take its toll.

First Aid popped in to check on the two a while later; supplying her with the time as well.  Three hours had gone by.

He offered to put her to bed when she let out a yawn…but she politely declined, muttering that “she had to stay there.”  Not wanting to argue, the young medic left.

The girl returned to her stroking; adding a soft hum to help keep her awake.

Half an hour later…her head began to droop.

She shifted her position and hummed a little louder…can’t fall asleep-stay with him.

Four hours…his hand was so comfy and warm…

No-gotta’ stay awake…can’t leave Jazz alone.  Keep caressing-he can hear you…maybe…

Four and a half hours…sssso tired…

Still not awake…she hoped he was okay.

Five hours…noises getting softer…

She’d never doubt Ratchet’s skills, but nothing could erase her worry.

…getting sleepy…

She already lost one important person in her life…she wasn’t about to lose another…

…head was ssso heavy…

If only Dad were here…

…ssssoo ssssleepy…

…he’d know what to do…

…can’t…fffall…assssleep…

…Dad…

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.

.

_“Hellooo?  Anyone home?” asked a voice; rather playfully._

_Kayla could feel someone giving her shoulder a gentle shake, and she blearily rubbed her face “…wha-?”_

_“Gettin’ cozy, huh sleepy head?” the voice teased, “Now that’s no way for a soldier to act.”_

_The girl lifted her head slightly; recognizing the voice…and it instantly made her heart jump.  But-it couldn’t be…she rose a bit more; her own voice in awe “…D-Dad?”_

_Resounding laughter filled the air, “Well, whoja’ think it was?  Gomer Pile?”_

_The teen gasped and was on her feet in seconds-that voice!  It was!  Her hands waving about in a tizzy, she practically screamed but one word, “DAD!”_

_A warm hand took her by the arm, and she immediately dove into her father’s loving embrace.  Strong, yet gentle hands wrapped around her frame, and she let him stroke her head as she began to shed a few tears.  With her pressed against his chest, his deep voice vibrated through her as he soothed, “Aww, hey now-don’t cry…don’t cry-I’m here.”_

_The red head tightened her grip around him; not wanting to let go.  Her voice hitched slightly as she managed out, “Oh, God…I missed you so much…I-“  Her hands reached around his back…when suddenly, she came across something rather odd.  It seemed as though something was protruding from his back…something soft, and-feathery?  Despite the blackness, her eyes went wide as she realized the man had…wings…and it made her heart drop as realization set in.  Taking a step back, she stuttered, “Oh no…n-no, you…y-you can’t-be here…y-you’re…”_

_“Dead?” her father finished; almost in a-amused tone._

_Kayla could only nod her head, but she then darted about, trying to listen for the hum of the med bay machinery…but all was quiet.  With a gasp, she continued, “B-but…t-that means I…I’m…”_

_“Well, you’re not in the Twilight Zone, and you’re not in Kansas either”, the man giggled, “Ya’ just nodded off-that’s all.”_

_Oh no-she was asleep!  She couldn’t be asleep!  That means she left Jazz all alone!  Her voice in a panic she huffed, “Oh no…n-no-no-no…”_

_But just then, her dad placed a hand on her shoulder and spoke with reassurance, “Hey, hey…calm down.  Jazz is still sleepin’, and you’re just snorin’ away beside him is all-he’s fine.”_

_A bit of relief came over her at his words, only to be replaced by confusion, “Wait…you-know Jazz?”_

_“Of course”, he said; matter of factly, “I know all the Autobots.”_

_The girl tilted her head, “But-how-?”_

_To that, her father let out a chuckle, “I’m watchin’ over you, aren’t I?”_

_It took a moment for her to understand where he was coming from exactly, but soon, it dawned on her, “Then…Optimus was right.”_

_“Uh huh…” the man answered.  She could tell he was smiling as he went on, “Gotta’ love that guy…wish he was in my company-coulda’ used him…”_

_The teen could only stand there; her mind still drawing a bit of a blank at the whole unbelievable situation.  This could’ve been just a dream…but her dad never got to meet the Autobots, so how would he know anything about them?  There was another long pause before she muttered, above barely a whisper, “H-how are you here?  Why?”_

_Her father still had a hand on her shoulder, and proceeded to give her a caring squeeze, “Well, I saw you were havin’ some trouble, so I wanted to make sure you were alright.”  With an inquisitive lilt, he added, “…you did ask for my help, right?”_

_Kayla tried to recall what she was thinking before drifting off, and gave a tiny nod, “Y-yeah, I-“_

_“Well then, let’s talk”, he said in a lighter tone.  With both hands, he gently pushed her shoulders; motioning her to sit down.  With a bit of hesitation, she did just that…what she was sitting on, she hadn’t the slightest clue.  But before she could question it, she felt him sit beside her with a huff/sigh.  A smack of the hands, and he asked, “Alright-what’s eatin’ ya’?”_

_Whatever shock the red head had before, dissipated, as she was more relieved to just be with him again, even in a dream.  But the matter at hand came flooding back, and her head drooped as she began, solemnly, “Isn’t it obvious?”_

_Her dad must’ve sensed her change in tone, for he put an arm around her and started softly, “Hey…I know you’re upset, but-“_

_“But why?” she said a little louder; snapping in his general direction; her voice choked and teary, “Why did you leave now?  I-I wasn’t ready, I-“_

_His one hand shifted to her shoulder, and she felt him place his other hand on her heart as he leaned in, “Kay-no one’s ever ready for this.  But it’s like Jazz said-take it one day at a time.”_

_A moment of silence went by, during which the man still held her in a loving embrace.  The teen contemplated what she was about to ask, but finding no way to mince words, she let out a sigh and replied in a pained tone, “Why did you have to die?”_

_Her father slowly let go of her as his voice became thoughtful, “Well…we all gotta’ go sometime…and-when your time comes, you just hope you lived a good life…and I know I did.  When one person dies, another is born…it’s just part of nature…it’s not bad to die.”  She chose to remain quiet, and there was an awkward pause before he continued, “It didn’t hurt if that’s what you’re thinkin’.”  Her head went up a tad at how observant he was, and she could tell he was stretching as his voice strained a little, “Just got dark; felt kinda’ sleepy, and well, I guess you know the rest…but no; no pain what so ever.”_

_That confirmed it; this wasn’t a dream…well, technically it was, and yet, not exactly.  With that in mind, the girl’s heart began to pound…oddly-in excitement, for the whole thing was both spooky and relieving some what.  Her confidence starting to rise, she asked in a hesitant, but curious tone, “H-how is it…up there?”_

_Her dad chuckled at such a simple question, and she could tell he was shrugging as he pondered it, “Mmmm…pretty peaceful.”_

_Kayla couldn’t help but smile at his easy going attitude-that was Dad alright.  With a deep breath, she sighed in relief; he was okay…but her moment of solace was short lived, when a new concern came to mind.  With a twinge of worry, she muttered, “Y-…y-you’re not-mad, are you?”_

_“For what?  At dying?” he asked; his voice clearly displaying how vexed he was, “Heck no; not much you can do about that.  And I know you’ll be here with me eventually.”_

_The teen shook her head.  “N-no”, she said, rather timidly, “…at me…”_

_“For what?” he inquired in a concerned tone._

_The girl’s shoulders noticeably slumped as she heaved a nervous sigh, “W-well, I…I’ve been hangin’ with the Autobots for months now, and…they’ve really grown on me…became my…family…Jazz is like a-brother to me, and Optimus…”  There was a pause as she brought her legs closer to her body; ending in a whisper, “…y-you-don’t think I’m-you’re-being…replaced…?”_

_The whole time she spoke, her father put an arm around her once again, and reassured her, “Aww, no, no-you’re not betraying anyone.  It’s good you keep on loving others; it helps ease the pain.”  On a happier note, he added, “I like when you’re with Jazz.  I think a certain weight lifts when you’re with him.”_

_The red head’s sightless eyes went wide in shock at his approval.  To that, she turned in his direction again; her voice in complete awe, “Y-you don’t care he’s a robot?”_

_“Nah”, he replied with an air of playfulness, “Blue, green; who cares?  If he’s protectin’ ya’, he’s okay with me.  It’s your life.”_

_The teen raised an eyebrow, “And…the rest of the gang?”_

_Her dad let loose a chuckle, “I’d say you’re pretty lucky.  From what I’ve seen, you won’t meet a nobler bunch than them.”_

_Her voice became hopeful, “So, I can stay?”_

_“I would”, he said; matter of factly.  She then felt him pat her hand and give it a squeeze as he explained, “All I ever want is for you to be happy.  I like that you’re trying to help the ‘Bots; they’ll need all the help they can get…you make them happy-give them something to look forward to.”  With a gentle swipe, he brushed her hair from her face and soothed in a loving tone, “You’ve made me very proud.”_

_He never said that before…not aloud anyway…the moment was just too much for her, and she couldn’t help but blush as a tear rolled down her cheek.  A warm hand wiped her face, and she quickly, but softly, took his hand in hers and held it tight.  But whatever remnence of a smile she had faded away when a twinge of fear seeped back in; knowing this wonderful dream wasn’t going to last forever.  Her voice hesitant, she mumbled, “I’m still scared…one way or another, you’ve always been able to help me…b-but now what?”_

_The man gave her hand a gentle rub as he said softly, “Well, I’m here, aren’t I?  I saw you needed help, but you’re the one who got me here.  I wouldn’t have gone to fight if I didn’t think you could survive, and look where you are…just be strong.”_

_He said it like it was such a simple thing…but she’d never give up; not on him, or anyone.  Her voice was still a tad weak, but she tried to speak with confidence, “I’ll try…”_

_“Good”, he replied in satisfaction; putting his hands on her shoulders, “There’s just one thing you gotta’ promise me.”_

_The girl tilted her head up, “Anything…”_

_His tone quiet and caring, he lulled, “Please, try not to get so choked up about this-about me.  Remember what Optimus said; I’m always gonna’ be with you in here.”  He tapped her heart for emphasis, “If you ever need me, just think about me and I’ll be there…you talk; I’ll listen.”  His words insightful, she nodded in understanding, and he then gave her a playful nudge, “And start playin’ that guitar again.  I don’t think Satchmo, Ray, and Jazz are takin’ that too well.”_

_To that, the teen couldn’t help but chuckle; both at the man’s words, and for this golden opportunity she’d been given.  For the first time in a long while, her soul felt relieved…not only that, but lifted.  All they both wanted was just to know if the other was okay…and in many respects, they both would be.  Her heart overjoyed at just hearing him again, she gave a warm smile, “Thanks, Dad…”_

_With a soft sigh, her father kissed her on the forehead; pulling her into a loving hug as well.  He then rubbed her back in a soft, soothing way as he hummed, “Aww, Kayla…”_

_Slowly, but surely, his voice began to echo._

_“…Kayla…Kayla…”_

_._

_._

_._

“…Kayla…hey, Kay…”

Was it just her, or did his voice sound a bit Southern?  And his hand didn’t feel like a hand anymore…more like…one giant finger…was it…could it…?

With her back still being rubbed, the now Cajun voice cooed softly, “Kayla…Kaaayla…?”

Her arms stretched out to touch the sheet of cool metal she was lying on-and reality started to creep in again.  Her mind still a bit drowsy, she blearily rubbed her eyes and let out a long, tired yawn.  Above barely a whisper, she muttered, upon recognizing the voice, “Jazz…?”

The saboteur chuckled softly, “Wake up, sleepy head…”

The girl unleashed a huge smile instantly; Jazz was awake!  She began making a move to get up, but the mech scooped her into his grasp and cuddled her in a brotherly hug.  She leaned into his now-repaired chest plate; attempting to return the gesture, making the Autobot hum a little laugh.  The two remained that way a moment, before she stated in relief, “Thank God you’re alive.”

The Porsche smiled and patted her back; speaking with reassurance, “Aww, come on.  Ya’ didn’t really think I was gonna’ bite it, did ya’?  It’ll take more than one punch ta’ get rid a’ me.”

The teen merely squeezed him tighter; praying his sentiment would hold true should anything like this happen again.  Tilting her head up, but not letting go, she inquired, “How long’ve you been up?”

“Little while…” he said with a smirk as he gently stroked her long hair.  But a tiny yawn crept in as he added with disappointment, “Still feel kinda’ out of it though-doc’ says I’m gonna’ be birth-ridden a few days.”

Well, that revealed another thing, to which she asked, “So, Ratchet’s up too?”

The saboteur nodded, “Yep…but he did take ya’ advice and took a little snooze.”  The red head smiled a bit brighter; flattered that the ambulance actually listened to her.  But she soon heard a burst of barely-contained giggles escape her friend as he went on; his voice hushed, “Musta’ did him some good, ‘cause I haven’t heard him cuss out anyone yet.”

From an adjoining room, the medic’s voice snapped, “I heard that!”

The musical duo let out a chorus of laughter in response.  The cheerful moment lasted a good minute or two, during which the girl’s chuckles died down upon remembering just who had awoken first.  The mech must’ve noticed, for he too, became quiet and looked on at her with concern.  After an awkward pause, she finally stated, quite timidly, “Um…I’m sorry I fell asleep.”

Jazz’s answer was to cuddle her more; speaking in a calm tone, “Aww, dat’s alright; Ratch told me when ya’ came.”  His voice then became a bit bewildered as he asked, “…so all dat’ time, ya’ stayed?” To that, Kayla smiled; feeling the whole deja’ vu.  To quote her friend, she ran a hand across his chest plate and lulled, “I wouldn’t leave ya’…”

A tear of optic fluid nearly ran down the ‘Bot’s face as he brought her closer; appreciating her spark-warming concern for him.  Nobody had ever done that for him before.  But a peculiar observation of his soon came to mind, and he tilted his head in curiosity, “I saw ya’ nappin’ fer’ a while der’…heard ya’ mumblin’ all kinds a’ things…what were you dreamin’ ‘bout?”

Suddenly, the red head’s face went flat and serious, as she considered what she just went through…how in the world was she to even begin to tell him what happened?  Part of her was still trying to make sense of it all…or, maybe it was better if she didn’t ask.  There was a long pause before she sighed, “Let’s just say a lot of things on my mind were put to rest.”

The mech was left to wonder what she meant exactly, but given the events of the past month, he decided not to question it.  Instead, he merely raised a non-existent brow, but held a grin, “Fair ‘nough.”  He then leaned in closer; scrutinizing the far away look in her pale blue eyes.  To that, he asked gently, “Hey…everythin’ okay?”

A moment of silence went by, during which the teen thought over her…interesting dream.  But with it still fresh in her head, she had no problem giving a tiny smile and practically whispering, “I think it will be…”  The Porsche was quick to notice the hopeful lilt to her voice, and it made his spark skip-finally, it seemed things were getting back on track again.  But he was pulled from his thoughts when his friend let loose a huff, “So…you said you’re gonna’ be trapped here a few days?”

Not expecting the topic change, it took a second before he answered, “ ‘Fraid so.”

The girl thought a moment, before her unseeing eyes twinkled with a small, but new found delight.  Tilting her head in his direction, she smiled, “Well…I’ll just have to get my guitar then.”

The saboteur stared for a long beat, only to sport the broadest grin imaginable…whatever happened to her in the land of nod, it definitely sparked something good in her…she hadn’t played her prized instrument in a long time.  Another sign, perhaps?  Well…better not look the gift horse in the mouth.  With all sincerity, he smirked, “I’d like ‘dat-thanks.”

To that, the girl nodded; a thoughtful look appearing, “I’ll be back in a little bit then…now that I think of it, there’s just one thing I gotta’ do first.”

.

.

.

Sideswipe gave a yawn and a stretch as he made his way to his quarters.  After being on patrol all day, he couldn’t wait to curl up on his recharge birth and sleep away the aches and pains.  At least with his brother gone on the night shift, it ensured a long, peaceful nap.  Of course he enjoyed his twin’s company very much, but even pranksters needed a night off.

But upon reaching the automatic doors to his room, he came across a peculiar thing.  A large piece of paper had been taped to the door lock on the adjoining wall…a-note of some kind, he deduced, as he tore it off for closer inspection.  Whoever it was, they must’ve put it on the lock to make sure he read it…well, better not disappoint them.

The “letter”, if you will, was made up of but one, typed sentence…a sentence that made the Lamborghini break out in a mischievous smile.

_Sides, Sunny’s carwash stall first thing tomorrow; I’ll bring the marbles-you bring the whipped cream. ---Kayla_

The teenage musician was back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Well...as far back as "Guitar Hero", I gave a few hints about Kayla's dad, but told you guys I couldn't shed any light on his character until the sequel...and the time has finally come.
> 
> Okay...in the "Guitar Hero" story, I originally had her father already be dead, and at the time of the story's unfolding, this was a fairly recent occurance. With that, there was a little side story going where she was still kinda' dealing with the death, and how making new friends with the Autobots would give her a new family of sorts. I ALMOST wrote it in, but then took another look at the story already in progress, and found that between her and Jazz's story, the Decepticons' part in the story, and the stuff going on with the Magna Ray, I realized this extra side plot would be nothing but a waste. So, at the last second, I changed it so her dad was alive, but just off doing his military stuff, and would save the loss for the sequel.
> 
> When it came time to DO the sequel, I was originally going to write a chapter where her dad came home on shore leave and found out about what happened in "Guitar Hero", and basically Kayla introducing him to the 'Bots and getting his feelings on the whole situation. But, for some odd reason, for the life of me, I just COULDN'T figure out how to do it. I literally went down over a dozen different story angles; all of them having the dialouge and exposition be either too corny, too predictable, too unrealistic, or all of the above. So, with it constantly not turning out the way I liked, I ended up scrapping the whole chapter.
> 
> But that left me with a serious problem: When it comes to killing off a character, you HAVE to introduce them first. You CAN'T kill them right off the bat, or else you don't feel anything. So, the whole point of this "Dad chapter" would, secretly, be to get you to care about him, so, later on, it's painful when he dies. But now, with this missing chapter, how do you gain the audience's sympathy? 
> 
> After giving it much thought, I finally decided, to make up for the missing chapter, I'd mention her dad whenever possible; basically to ram the idea home that this man has made a very deep impact on this girl's life. (And also to both excite and trick the audience into thinking he's coming home.)
> 
> So, with all that rambling said, I find it very cool and ironic that I finally got the "Dad chapter" that I wanted...but it happens AFTER he dies. I guess some things find a way of working out after all.
> 
> And one more thing; when you're dealing with the dead and subjects like the Matrix of Leadership, you're bound to have some religious themes come with you. Of course, I have NO clue what it's like to die, or what Heaven looks like, or things like that, but I find it intriquing to talk about, none the less. But, I'm NOT about to get in a religious debate with you guys, okay? I respect what YOU believe in, so please do likewise. But also realize that IT'S JUST A STORY! Okay?


	15. Hero

_Each man is a hero and oracle to somebody.  -Emerson_

 

Through her readings and figurative observations, Kayla had long since come to learn that the definition of a hero has long been bounced around the proverbial table for centuries.  Fact of the matter is, is that everyone holds within them, whether they know or not, heroic qualities.  It all just depends on what sort of prism they’re being viewed through.

For all her life, her father was a hero, and he would be forever more.  There was no denying the amount of courage the man possessed; both on and off duty.  Even when he was faced with the fact that the shrapnel from the car accident ensured his daughter’s sight could never be restored, he only saw it as another challenge.  “Just another wall to climb over”, he once said.  She was only five at the time, but when one is suddenly thrust into a world of darkness, one takes pleasure in all the many sounds we tend to ignore.  Just her dad’s presence; the way he held her hand, his warm and gentle voice, even just his breathing, gave her comfort.  She didn’t understand completely until she was older, how he, to her, never seemed too fazed by the whole ordeal, but it did make sense.  A person didn’t need eyes to function-to help others-to love.

And when she had to learn how to rely on her remaining senses, her dad stuck by her always-helping her learn; pushing her when she almost gave up; teaching her how to accept fears and face them…the man had made her who she was.  Very quickly, admiration set in of his confidence-mainly in her when he had to leave to fight the good fight.  But it wasn’t until recently she learned that his morals, lessons, sacrifices, and love would live on forever…all in the name of duty.

He fought for what he believed in.  He died defending his country…he died defending her.

Peter Matthews-the tragic hero.

.

.

.

“I’ve been out in the field plenty of times, but I’m more behind the scenes.”

Strangely enough, it was those words that first came to mind as Kayla thought back to when she first met Ratchet.  She began to consider it during the days Jazz was still confined to the med bay…of the doctor’s profession in general.  Now she, quite frankly, didn’t care what planet one was from; one is never forced into being a medic, one chooses to be.  So keeping his “don’t mess with me” attitude in mind, why would he possibly choose to dedicate his life to digging inside bodies on a regular basis?

She asked her mother, who was a nurse herself, about it once, and the woman explained of how rewarding the job was-to know that you, with your own two hands, saved a life.  Well, saving people was a good enough reason…but that didn’t explain how she felt when most patients walked out of the hospital without so much as a simple note of gratitude.

“Why do you do it?” the teen finally asked Ratchet upon Jazz’s release, “And don’t say ‘to save lives’, ‘cause I already know that.  I mean, don’t you ever get thanked for doing this stuff?”

The Autobot scratched his head and gave it some thought, “Well…most of the time, no.  During battle, the others either forget, or don’t have time to because they need to get back to fighting.”

The girl tilted her head, “Doesn’t it bother you?”

To that, the ambulance sighed, “It used to…but being with this crew for so long, you tend to learn mannerisms and such.  I’ve learned to not need it; they all have different ways of showing care…I know they appreciate it.”

The red head still seemed a bit incredulous, “You’re sure?”

The medic let out a huff, “My best friends are all aboard this ship…and no doctor wants to see a patient die, especially under his own hands.  Just them getting off the operating table alive and well is a ‘thank you’ in and of itself.  I haven’t lost anyone-I’d say that’s a generous enough exchange.”

At those words, the musician smiled; now in understanding…although that wouldn’t stop her from verbally thanking him whenever possible.

Ratchet-the unsung hero.

.

.

.

Kayla and Bumblebee sat side by side in the grass not far from the Ark.  It wasn’t often these two were alone together, although they both figured it probably stemmed from him being off; Jazz being on a mission, and Spike and Carly being…out.  (That was all Bee said anyway, and Kayla didn’t question him any further.)  So, girl and mech were content to just sit there and enjoy the warmth of the sun while waiting for the people they usually hung out with to return.  A wide variety of topics were discussed; most of them stemming from a comment in a previous one.  And eventually, somehow, their chit-chat made the red head bring about the following question, “How’d you become an Autobot, anyway?”

The Minibot turned to his fellow conversationalist with a look of slight amusement, “If I told you, you wouldn’t believe me…frankly, I don’t believe it myself.”

The teen was lying on her back; hands pillowing her head, but she then rose to a sitting position and turned in his general direction; her voice challenging, “Try me.”

The Volkswagen turned his gaze toward the sky as he thought back to days long past, “Well…part of it was because I wanted to be an Autobot in the first place…but, I guess another part of it was because of a bet.”

The girl raised an eyebrow, and her voice didn’t betray her slight shock, “You joined the ‘Bots on a bet?”

The Beetle rubbed the back of his head at his poor choice of words, “Well-er-not a bet, really, it…well, ya’ see, there were these two friends of mine that I hung out with all the time.  Only problem was that they were a bit…tougher…not mean, just…they had more of an edge than I did.”

The musician nodded, “So, in ZZ Top, you were the one without the beard.”

The mech looked at her in confusion; cocking his head, “What?”

Not wanting to interrupt him with a long explanation, she merely waved a hand, “Never mind.”

Bumblebee blinked a few times, still a bit puzzled, before continuing his story, “Um…well, anyway…the war had just started, but the fighting hadn’t reached our part of the world yet.  At the time, the three of us were still neutrals…”  A far away look came over him as he went on, “But when I found out what was happening in other cities, I told my buddies I was considering joining the Autobots.  So, being the young, cheerful mech amidst two tough ones, they started laughing ‘till their CPU’s nearly crashed.  They thought a nice mech like me wouldn’t last an astro minute-thought I couldn’t…what’s that phrase?  ‘Hack the ketchup’?”

“ ‘Cut the mustard’,” the red head clarified, “I know what ya’ mean.  So what happened next?”

There was a short pause, during which the Minibot’s optics fell to the ground.  With a sigh and a pained lilt to his voice, he started again, “Well…eventually, the day came that our city was attacked…and in all the mayhem, I got separated from my friends…for the longest time, I searched everywhere for them.”

Kayla leaned in a tad; taking note that the yellow ‘Bot said “separated”, not “killed”, or “lost”, “And…you found them…right?”

“Yep”, was all he replied.

Now the girl was really interested, “Where were they?”

To that, the Volkswagen sighed, “Well…alotta’ time passed, and I still couldn’t find them…and then I found out about a factory near the town I was staying in.”  He rubbed his chin in thought, “I’m not sure how, but somehow, word had gotten around that the Decepticons were manufacturing weapons in that place.  Others had tried, but no one could get in without being caught.”  There was a hint of embarrassment in his voice as he continued, “So, being smart in the CPU, but dumb in the head, I decided to give it a shot.  I figured the ‘Cons wouldn’t look for a little mech like me, and I wasn’t getting anywhere finding my buddies, so what did I have to lose?  Plus, this was my chance to get back at them for all the times they picked on me.  If I could blow up the place, that’d prove I was Autobot material.”

The teen leaned forward a bit more in utter suspense, “Did you do it?”

“Yep”, he answered; a small amount of pride seeping in, “I snuck in through the cooling vents; stole some bombs, then placed them around the outside at each corner of the factory.”

The musician titled her head, “O-kay, but that doesn’t explain where you found your friends.”

Bumblebee emitted another long sigh, “Oh, I found them alright…after nearly blowing myself up.”  A look of shock came over his one person audience, and he elaborated, “I’d placed the last bomb and activated them all, when one of those ‘Cons up and grabbed me from behind.  There weren’t any around when I snuck in, so I didn’t think to look when I left.”  A pause, and then, “I don’t need to tell you how I escaped; all you need to know is that I did.  So, I transformed and took off as fast as I could to make up for lost time-but it was too late.  I just heard the explosion; a wave hit me, and I blacked out.”

By that time, the girl was on the edge of her proverbial seat, “And?”

“…next thing I know, I’m in a med bay with Ratchet repairing me”, the Beetle answered.  He then smiled as he continued, “…and who else should be there, but my two friends I was looking for all along.  Turns out, when we got separated, they ran into a team of Autobots and joined up with them.  Not only that, but they were sent on a mission to destroy that very factory-“

“-only to find it already blown up and that’s where they found you”, she finished; putting the pieces together.

“Exactly”, he nodded.  A burst of giggles escaped him as he thought back on it, “I wish you could’ve seen the looks on their faces.  They couldn’t believe that ‘cute little Bee’ could do such a thing…and when Prime himself presented me with the Autobot symbol, they never gave me a hard time again.”

The teen raised an eyebrow, for one question still remained a mystery, “And might I ask just who, are these two friends of yours?”

The mech turned to her with a smirk; his voice adding a layer of irony to his tale as he stated simply, “Brawn and Cliffjumper.”  To that, Kayla laughed.

Bumblebee-the unexpected hero.

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Taking a break from her usual endeavors, Kayla plopped down on the Autobot-sized couch and began to read the newspaper (after she fed it to Teletraan-One to spit it out in Braille for her).  Not surprisingly, the front page was filled with nothing but stories concerning the Autobots, ranging from new inventions they were presenting to the science community, to recent battles.  Only when she finished reading did she pause to consider the many friends she both hung out and worked with on a daily basis.

There was no denying the nobility of the team; they didn’t ask to be on Earth, and with the space bridge and deep space ‘Bots like Cosmos and Omega Supreme, they didn’t have to be.  They could’ve left…but instead, they chose to remain on Earth-chose to protect a race that was so primitive in comparison.

She asked Optimus about it once; what he possibly saw in the humans.  To which, he replied, “Your planet is one of great beauty, and one that we can’t afford to lose.  More importantly, you, Spike, Carly, and the rest of your race have brought us ways to have fun.  On Cybertron, we were so busy advancing our world and fighting this war for so long, that many of us forgot how to be people.  You’ve taught us how to live.”

His words made her realize how important the mission was, both to the Autobots, and for the world.  Only question now was where they got their will to go on.  They were fighting for millions of years, and yet they never gave up.  Perhaps it was just what their leader said; they couldn’t afford to lose two planets and many along with it to something so evil, which is why they’d always be standing by-waiting, protecting, and ready to fight for universal peace.

The Autobots-the action heroes.

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He was once a simple mech leading an easy life, until fate bestowed upon him a great power and even greater responsibility.  No doubt it must’ve scared him to suddenly have the weight of the universe on his shoulders, but carrying on despite said fear only made him stronger.

He led his troops with such tremendous skill and passion, that only the bravest dared to face him.  And never would he ever take refuge behind his soldiers; he was prepared to make the ultimate sacrifice if it ensured his friends’ lives.  For that, the troops hailed his leadership, only for him to selflessly proclaim that only through teamwork did they win the battle.

For many a good reason, he was admired by all; his strong, but kind words touching a chord and inspiring many to do the right thing…for freedom was the right of all sentient beings.

Kayla couldn’t think of anything else to say about him, for he’d done so much…only that most importantly of all, he became a father when she needed one.

Optimus Prime-the epic hero.

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Reflecting back on the days she helped Jazz recover in the med bay, Kayla was at a loss for words of how much the saboteur meant to her.  She’d never forget the day she met him, and thus, had her life changed forever.  Two musicians who marched to the same beat finally found each other, and in doing so, made the other’s life complete.  No one could’ve asked for anything better.

But there were other reasons for her passionate liking.  During his stay in the medical ward, the Porsche wasn’t without a wide gallery of visitors.  After the red head, the first had been Optimus Prime, who commended his brave effort to save his comrades from Devastator.  Prowl was next, and he didn’t hesitate to point out how illogical it was to face such a monster, considering the size difference.  (Although, everyone knew that was just his way of saying he was worried.)  Then , came the twins, who were already plotting ways to sneak him out of there to watch movies with them.  And of course, there was Blaster, who happily provided some tunes while the teenager rested her hands from playing her guitar.  And still, more visitors came, all with the basic message to get well soon.

Judging by his tone, Jazz had taken it all with a smile; joking, laughing, and bidding them ado with a friendly wave.  But Kayla knew of the motive behind it.  Many a comedian once said that life is only in balance when it has a sense of humor.  The saboteur obviously knew this, for he went to great lengths to not make a big deal out of the whole affair.  It was all to make sure the others didn’t worry about him.  That was the Porsche for you; always being the column of support, even when he couldn’t support himself.

And of course, when tragedy struck, and a friend was in desperate need, the mech put aside the world to help raise her hope.  By doing so, a friend had become a brother…and he’d forever remain one.

Jazz-the local hero.

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“Aww, you guys save the world all the time.  I’m nothin’ special.”

To this day, the Autobots who were there the day Kayla joined the team, were still a bit shocked at her outright statement.  The girl had pretty much saved them all from the whole “Magna Ray Incident” as they so graciously dubbed it.  A warrior would usually celebrate or boast their victory, especially if they accomplished something of her valor under her unfortunate circumstance.  How could she possibly believe she was unimportant?

Optimus was even more puzzled as he thought back to what he said to her upon introduction. “You’re not giving yourself enough credit”, he had explained, “While I understand that you wish to not be treated as a hero, there’s no denying that your selfless acts have helped us in more ways than one.

You were brave enough to face Skywarp, and in doing so, gave Jazz valuable time in the battle he was in. Then, came the warning you slipped us in your music, without which, we might not have considered a trap was evident, given the circumstances.  And you’ve given us valuable information with which we can use against the Decepticons.  But your bravest act was when you risked your very life to retrieve that device and destroy it.  Had you not done so, the battle might have turned out vastly different, and more than likely, for the worst.”

But that was just it; the leader understood the act of not wanting a hero’s welcome-it was the reasoning that stumped him a tad.  She was, arguably, the most interesting human they’d come across, for she had an ability to connect to the others on one level or another.  But why?  The teenager had a courageous spirit that’s hard to find.  Her talents had helped them greatly, and on more than one occasion, the Autobots gave her their deepest thanks-and yet she’d always politely decline the attention.  Why?

After much thought, the ‘Bots finally came to the conclusion that maybe she was taking a page from Jazz’s book and just didn’t want to make a big deal out of everything…but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t stop trying.

Kayla Matthews-the reluctant hero.

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_TONIGHT For ONE night ONLY_

_“A Salute to Music”_

_Celebrating everyone’s favorites Oldies & Newies _

_With guitarist and rising artist KAYLA MATTHEWS_

_Sponsored by: B & W’s MUSIC CENTER_

 

This very sign displayed outside of said music store was enticing a very excited crowd as they made their way to the vacant lot next to the building.  Rows and rows of fold up chairs were lined across the black top; all facing a well-put together stage, complete with speakers, lights, and a red velvet curtain.  But as the men and women took their seats, all conversations were a buzz of what was possibly to come.

Backstage, the 50-something proprietor of B & W’s Music Center was putting the finishing touches on his tuxedo; adjusting the black tie ever so slightly.  His mop of graying-brown hair was combed over for once, to make up for having to ditch the Pink Floyd bandana he usually wore to cover up his bald spot.  Hair: check.  Shined shoes: check.  Suit: check.  Now, all that was missing was…

“Yo’, Scratch!” called a familiar, Southern voice.

The man in question turned around to be greeted by a dark-skinned, blue eyed man wearing a white T-shirt, black pants, white sneakers, and sunglasses, jogging up to him in high spirits.  With a surprised smile, he gave the man a friendly smack on the back, “Jazz!  Ya’ made it!”

“Wouldn’t miss ‘dis show fer’ da’ world!” the Autobot in disguise practically cheered.  It was then he gave the store owner a once over of his new look with a low whistle, “Whoa, man; back in black.”

“Oh, ya’ like it, huh?” Scratch inquired with a laugh as he looked over his good suit, “I know I’m no James Bond, but since I’m hostin’ this thing, I figured I better ‘de-hippify’ myself a bit.”  A sniff of pride, and he added, “I’d say I cleaned up pretty well.”

The saboteur, meanwhile, snuck a peek through the curtain and gazed out at the many people already seated, as well as the dozens more still coming.  Turning back around, he replied, “Man, it looks like it’s gonna’ be a full house!  How’d ya’ get all these people ta’ come?”

“I just ran a couple of flyers and handed them out”, the elder musician explained, “I told my neighbors and they told their friends and they told their friends and so on.”

Jazz gave a grin, “Well, it looks like it’s gonna’ be a pretty excitin’ night.  You’ll definitely get a lotta’ business now.”

“Yeah, and I got you and Kayla to thank for it”, Scratch replied as he thought back to that day his protégé’ first introduced him to her new friend, “You guys came up with this whole idea.”  He then swiveled his head around, “Speakin’ of whom, where is she anyway?”

“Don’t worry, she’s ‘ere”, the ‘Bot reassured as he jerked his thumb behind him, “She’s jus’ talkin’ ta’ some of ma’ friends who wanted ta’ see da’ show.  They’re in da’ back row.”

The store owner raised an eyebrow, “The back row?  Why?”

The saboteur ran a hand through his black hair, “Well, their cars are parked back ‘der, an’ I guess they jus’ wanna’ keep an eye on their wheels.”

It was then that a faint, but familiar tapping sound could be heard, causing the two musicians to turn…and be greeted by the most pleasing sight.  There stood Kayla, trading her usual shirt and jeans for a fashion makeover for the event.  She wore a dark blue dress with flat dress shoes to match, but thankfully, her mom made the right choice in helping her choose something unlacey and unfrilly.  And her long, red hair had been pulled up into a ponytail, with only a few strands hanging loose.  The only evidence that she was still her same, rockin’ self was her black and white guitar slung on her back.  Jazz, meanwhile, just looked her up and down; mouth agape-he’d never seen her get dressed up before.

“Hey!  There’s our star!” Scratch exclaimed; opening his arms for emphasis.

With a bit of hesitancy in her voice, the girl shifted on her feet, “Um…I know I’m not into this stuff, but for the sake of the audience-how do I look?”

The saboteur grinned and tilted his head; a far away look to his eyes, “Ya’ look beautiful.”  The musician turned beet red at the statement.

“Ya’ look great, kid”, the store owner added, “I appreciate you helping me out.”

The teen merely shrugged, “No music-no life”.  She then took a step forward, “So, let’s run through what you said on the phone one last time.  You get on stage, make introductions, then I come out-right?”

“Right”, Scratch explained, “There’s microphones set up so everyone can hear you playin’ loud and clear.  Just walk forward, I’ll help set you up, and we’ll be good to go.”  He then raised an eyebrow, “But you still haven’t told me what you picked for your opening song.”

Both he and Jazz looked to the red head expectantly.  But all she gave was a soft smile, “Don’t worry; this past month’s given me a lot to think about…I got something special in mind.”  Her voice became softer as she added in, “I know my dad liked this song.”

The elder musician mournfully nodded his head.  It wasn’t long before the girl confessed to him of her father’s passing and his heart went out to her, for he too, went through losing a parent.  Even if it was to old age and not battle, the feeling was all the same.  With all the concern of a parent himself, he gently patted her shoulder and spoke with care, “Kay…I understand what you’re going through…and I told you before, you don’t have to do this if you don’t feel up to it.”

Kayla thought back to that fateful conversation on the phone…how he wanted to cancel the show right then and there…and for her, that was out of the question.  A moment later, she sighed, “I have to.”

“Why?” he inquired.

The teen tilted her head; stating, matter of factly, “First rule of showbiz…the show must go on.” To that, her two friends smiled at her amount of gusto.  There was a short pause before Jazz replied, “Good luck out ‘der.”

“We’re rootin’ for ya’,” the store owner added.

The girl smirked and spread her arms wide open, to which her fellow musicians each gave her a warm hug and a pat on the back.  Her voice filled with happiness and mirth, she said softly, “Thanks guys…”

Meanwhile, in the aforementioned back row of the audience, a very…interesting collection of people sat together in anticipation.  One such person was a blue eyed man, who looked to be in his late 30’s-and who might’ve stepped out of Frankenstein.  His brownish-black hair was completely frazzled, as if he’d taken a few volts of electricity, which, considering his get up, wasn’t hard to believe.  He wore dark green pants, a red shirt, and a white lab coat to boot; eliciting a few stares from the passerby.  His patience wearing thin, he swiveled his head around, and spat in a Brooklyn accent, “Where’s Jazz?”

A blue eyed, blonde haired, teenage boy, wearing a yellow T-shirt, black pants, and yellow shoes was sitting next to him.  Turning with a half smile, he answered calmly, “Backstage.  He’ll be out soon.” The scientist didn’t seem convinced, as he so implied with a huff, “He better be, or he might blow his cover.”

The teenager couldn’t help but chuckle; their stylin’ Special Ops. agent blowing his cover?  Like that would ever happen.  With a quick glance at his friend’s attire, his voice didn’t betray his sarcasm as he drawled, “Oh yeah, Jack-unruly hair and a lab coat-you’re real inconspicuous.”

Wheeljack shrugged his shoulders, “So I saw Back to the Future one too many times-so kill me.”

On the other side of the scientist in disguise, sat an equally blue eyed man in his late 30’s, whose brown hair was slicked back.  Garbed in plain, white medical attire, and sporting an armband with a red cross, he slid his fingers under his steel-rimmed glasses to rub his face in annoyance.  The two had been at it for a while and he just about had it.  Snapping his head in their direction, he grumbled, “I’m going to short both your mouth circuits if you don’t shut up.”

Thankfully, Wheeljack had nothing left to say.  The blond teenager, however, turned to his other side to converse with an older gentleman, wearing blue pants, a red button shirt, and a cowboy hat that hid most of his black hair.  His voice hushed, the teen asked, “Say Prime-why do we have to be in our holo forms anyway?  I mean, we walk the streets practically every day.  The world knows we exist.”

Optimus turned to the boy with a small smile, “This is Kayla’s show, Bumblebee-not ours.”

The disguised Minibot nodded in understanding-so much wisdom in so few words.  He was about to say more, when Jazz’s holo form came jogging up and sat next to Prime at the end of the row.  With a wave, he shout/whispered down the line, “Yo’, I’m back!”

“About time”, the medic grumbled.

However, before he could mouth the saboteur off, someone lightly tapped his arm, and he turned to Chip Chase, who had his wheelchair parked next to him.  With a smile, he teased, “Aww, come on, Ratchet; you know he wouldn’t miss this…and neither would we.”  To that, the computer wiz motioned next to him, revealing Mrs. Matthews, followed by Sparkplug, Spike, and Carly.  As small as it was compared to most shows, this was Kayla’s first concert, and none of them wanted to miss this, and a recording, courtesy of Jazz, would be sent to the ‘Bots who couldn’t make it.

Suddenly, the stage curtains split apart and the lights grew brighter, making the audience hush-show time!

It was then the spotlights came to life and shown down upon Mr. Tuxedo man himself as he came out upon the stage.  A welcoming clap from the audience accompanied him as he arrived at the microphone and tapped it a few times to ensure its clarity.  With one last adjustment to his tie, Scratch nodded politely, then motioned for everyone to settle down.  Once everything was indeed quiet, he cleared his throat and began, “Thanks everyone.  My name is Billy Ray White; I’m the owner of B & W’s Music Center, and I welcome you all tonight to this-a salute to music.”  A pause, and then, “Now, music  has been around for as long as we can remember-be it juke box, records, tapes, IPods, or what have you…but very few have stopped to consider just how much music has impacted our cultures and society…for music is a form of expression that is the voice of the soul.  So, in celebrating some of our old favorites from the 20’s to today, we hope you hear some of those voices tonight.”

To that, everyone gathered clapped once more; albeit more quickly, for they knew he had more to say.  And again, the store owner waited until they were hushed.  With a grin starting to show, he continued, “Now, ladies and gentlemen, there’s someone I’d like to introduce you to…this young woman came into my store when she was six years old, and before she left-had developed an instant love for the guitar.  It’s been over 12 years now, and through her unrelenting hard work, I’ve watched her become one of the best guitarists I know.  It gives me great pleasure to introduce-a great musician, and even greater person…”  A huge smile plastered on his face, he practically shouted, “Please welcome-Kayla Matthews!”

With a wave of his hand, the spotlights directed themselves to the far side of the stage, and sporting the proudest smile, the teenager emerged into the light.  Immediately, the audience started to applaud, to which she gave a small wave in return…but a few seconds into her stroll, all eyes darted to the cane clutched in her hand…and slowly, the people hushed.  A few tiny gasps could be heard as well, as everyone was left to gawk in astonishment at this surprising twist.

Only the entire back row continued to clap, with Jazz and Bumblebee adding in a few whistles. But all the while, even through the wave of mumbling that spread across the crowd, the girl continued to walk straight ahead; retracting her cane upon reaching Scratch.  Quick, but gentle, he guided her to the chair behind him; taking the guitar off her back as he did so.  As soon as she was situated, he handed the instrument back, and carefully adjusted the microphone to the height of her sitting position.  After all was said and done, she nodded in thanks, to which he gave her a pat on the shoulder, before turning on his heel and making for the shadows.

But the store owner wouldn’t make it without one last retort.  The red head’s sharp ears picked up on the awkward silence radiating from the spectators and realization hit.  With a wry smile, she turned in his general direction, but stayed within mic range as she called, “You didn’t tell them I was blind, didn’t you?”

Scratch kept on walking, but still grinned, for her talking in the mic was a clear indicator she wanted the people to hear what he’d say in return.  With a shrug, he called innocently over his shoulder, “Didn’t think it mattered!”

To that, a few chuckles could be heard from the audience, but on whole, they still remained in a stricken quiet, for they hadn’t expected…this.  One could only imagine what was in store, but they all knew for sure this was certainly going to be interesting…a modern day Ray Charles performing; who would’ve thought?

Jazz and the gang, meanwhile, could only giggle; man, was everyone in for a surprise.

Taking a deep breath, Kayla slowly felt for the microphone and tapped it a few times to get everyone’s attention…not like there wasn’t enough attention on her already.  But never the less, she did so to signal she was about to speak…and speak she did, “Before I start, I just wanna’ thank you all for coming…it means a lot.”  She then gave her guitar one final tune up; ensuring it was ready to play.  Upon satisfaction, she then continued, “Um…in this day and age, there’s so many people worried about themselves, that the little guy often gets overlooked…so, for my opening song, I just wanna’ say that-this goes out to all the people out there who’re workin’ hard to help others, and…just a call for others to lend a hand when they need it.”

The audience merely remained quiet, with the entire back row smiling, as only they understood the full meaning of her words.

With a warm smile and both her family and friends in her thoughts and heart, the girl began to strum an even, steady, and beautiful chord; her fingers jumping and gliding across the strings as she poured her soul into her angelic singing.

_Where have all the good men gone and where are all the gods?_

_Where’s the streetwise Hercules to fight the rising odds?_

_Isn’t there a white knight upon a fiery steed?_

_Late at night, I toss and I turn and I dream of what I need…_

_I need a hero_

_I’m holdin’ out for a hero ‘till the end of the night_

_He’s gotta’ be strong and he’s gotta’ be fast and he’s gotta’ be fresh from the fight_

_I need a hero_

_I’m holdin’ out for a hero ‘till the mornin’ light_

_He’s gotta be sure and it’s gotta’ be soon and he’s gotta’ be larger than life_

_Somewhere after midnight in my wildest fantasy_

_Somewhere just beyond my reach-there’s someone reachin’ back for me_

_Racing on the thunder and rising with the heat_

_It’s gonna’ take a Superman to sweep me off my feet_

_I need a hero_

_I’m holdin’ out for a hero ‘till the end of the night_

_He’s gotta’ be strong and he’s gotta’ be fast and he’s gotta’ be fresh from the fight_

_I need a hero_

_I’m holdin’ out for a hero ‘till the mornin’ light_

_He’s gotta be sure and it’s gotta’ be soon and he’s gotta’ be larger than life_

_Up where the mountains reach the heavens above_

_Out where the lightning splits the sea_

_I would swear that there’s someone, somewhere watchin’ me_

_Through the wind and the chill and the rain_

_And the storm and the flood_

_I can feel his approach like the fire in my blood_

_I need a hero_

_I’m holdin’ out for a hero ‘till the end of the night_

_He’s gotta’ be strong and he’s gotta’ be fast and he’s gotta’ be fresh from the fight_

_I need a hero_

_I’m holdin’ out for a hero ‘till the mornin’ light_

_He’s gotta be sure and it’s gotta’ be soon and he’s gotta’ be larger than life_

_…larger than life…_

 

As the last timbers of the chords were carried across the breeze, the entire audience was stunned silent for only a second…and then erupted into what was possibly the loudest applause possible.  With both praise and amazement, every last person quickly rose from their seats to give her a standing ovation, and this was just the opening song!  So loud were the cheers, that they almost didn’t hear her give a hearty “thank you” in return.

“Say, Prime?” Jazz inquired as he continued to clap, “ ‘Fore she got on, Kayla said da’ past month gave her a lot ta’ think ‘bout…ya’ think she meant…?”

“She meant a lot of people”, Optimus finished as he turned his gaze to the saboteur, “If there’s anything we’ve learned since living on this planet, it’s that heroes can be found in the most unlikely places.”

To that, Jazz smiled brighter and turned back to the stage; watching as Kayla tuned up for the next song-a long night of music and fun ahead.

Heroes indeed.


	16. Origins

“Hey, Scratch!” Kayla called as she and Jazz, in his holo form, entered the proprietor’s musical domain.

Although it was at a low volume, the radio could clearly be heard playing in the back of the store; sending a flow of soft rock throughout.  The saboteur, meanwhile, glanced around-no sign of the guy.  Maybe if he tried calling him, “Yo’, Scratch!  Where ya’ at, man?”

Suddenly, the store owner’s head popped up from behind a shelf; sporting the biggest grin, “Hey!  Look who’s here!”  A hand appeared soon after; waving to them, “Come on back!”

Then, just as quickly as he rose up, he ducked back down again, prompting the musical duo to head back and see just what he was so excited about.  But as the now-human Autobot rounded the bend with Kayla carefully in tow, he was greeted with the sight of a mirad of boxes scattered across the floor.  Many of them were open, revealing large stashes of records and cassette tapes.  Others simply had a label on them, ranging from “Movie Soundtracks”, to…”Summer Bikini Beach Ball Bash”? (He daren’t ask what was in that box…)  Thankfully, the elder musician must’ve kept the teenager in mind, for all the boxes were pushed against the walls, keeping the path clear.  Speaking of whom, the man was seated Indian style on the floor between the shelving units; putting new things on display and other things being stored away in the many boxes surrounding him.

Clearly aware of the noise being made, the girl inquired, “What’s goin’ on?”

“Yeah, man”, the saboteur added in, “Why’s da’ place startin’ ta’ look like a warehouse?”

“Inventory!” the store owner practically cheered.  With a huge smile, he turned to his compadres as if he’d just won the lottery, “You wouldn’t believe it!  This place was almost a ghost town before we did that concert a few days ago.  Now, all of a sudden, the door never stays closed.”  He pulled out an album as he spoke, and proceeded to wave it around for emphasis, “Calls’ve been comin’ in from all over, askin’ for all kinds of stuff.”  He then leaned in; eyes wide, “A few even bought some vinyl records.  Vinyl…I can’t remember the last time someone bought vinyl.”

The whole time her mentor spoke, the red head’s smile grew bigger by the second, “That’s great!  Glad to hear it all worked out.”

“Yeah, and it’s all thanks to you guys”, he pointed.  It was then he snapped his fingers, as if he remembered something.  With a grunt, he slowly pushed himself to his feet and stepped over the wall of boxes.  Laying a hand on her shoulder, he replied, “Speakin’ of listenin’, just a few days ago, I took that Beastie Boys song ‘Intergalactic’, and mixed it with ‘Rocket’.  Ya’ wanna’ hear it?”

“Sure”, she nodded.

“Head on back then”, he grinned, “Everything’s set up the way it always is, and don’t worry about the boxes; I made sure they’re out of the way.”

“And lo and behold; the man thinks of everything”, she teased as she let her hand slide across the shelf for guidance.  With caring smirks, the two musicians watched her go, and Kayla disappeared through a side door.

A moment of silence went by, before Scratch turned back around to his only companion left, “Say, Jazz; there’s some stuff in the back room I gotta’ sort through.”  A tilt of the head and then, “Ya’ wouldn’t mind helpin’ your old, hippie friend, would ya’?”

To that, the saboteur couldn’t help but laugh, then gestured with his hand, “Point da’ way.”

Grabbing a stack of tapes near him, the store owner made his way to and around his desk, to another door practically camouflaged by a collage of posters.  The entrance was already open a crack, so seeing as how his hands were full, he used one of his giant, black boots to push the door open the rest of the way.  All the while, the Autobot followed close behind, and stole a glance around as he entered a part of the store he’d never been in before.  The “storage room”, if you will, was more of a long hallway than anything else, with a few tiny rooms and closets stemming from it.  Oddly enough, it was also the only room with a carpet…an orange, shag carpet…clearly, this was the room that time forgot, with piles of…um…ecletic items reaching the ceiling.

Jazz almost let out a chuckle at the sight, had it not been for the elder musician, who began to motion to his odd collection, “Okay; each one of these boxes are labeled.  Take everything from the 80’s to today and put it over there.”  He then pointed to an empty corner.

The saboteur merely smiled, “Ya’ got it.”

With that, the two music connoisseurs set to work.  The radio was still playing in the other room, giving them something to bop along to as they unceremoniously dumped and pushed crates up and down the hall.  Boring as it may seemed, the Autobot didn’t mind the task one bit; taking the time to examine the various contents and expand his cultural knowledge.  (Already, he had ten songs and five musicals he wanted to listen to.)  Scratch, meanwhile, was digging through a collection of concert memorabilia, when he glanced up to check his friend’s progress.  Well, all of the boxes were almost moved, and…how odd…was Jazz still wearing that same white T-shirt, black pants, and sunglasses?  Rubbing his chin, he remarked, “I don’t wanna’ sound like a jerk, but don’t ya’ wear anything else?”

The musician in question paused his rummaging for only a second, before letting out a laugh, “I bathe if dat’s what ya’ mean.”  He then turned to face him and shrugged, “I jus’ like black n’ white, dat’s all.”

To that, the store owner smiled…but raised an eyebrow as well.

Turning back to the hunt that got interrupted, the saboteur pushed a few more boxes off to the side, when suddenly, his eyes caught sight of a strange, white glob, gathering dust on the floor.  His curiosity aroused, he picked up the mystery object with a quick hand sweep; holding it out in front of himself when it suddenly unfolded itself.  However, the tacky, sparkly, jumpsuit reminiscent of Elvis Presley that was revealed, only presented more of a mystery.  With his sunglasses sliding further down his face, he couldn’t help but exclaim, “What da’ heck is dis’ thing?”

The elder musician paused in his cleaning to look up at what had caused such an outburst, only to immediately home in on the garments being flung around.  His eyes lighting up, he took one massive leap over to his friend and snatched the suit out of his hands.  To which, he replied with a grin, “Hey!  I’ve been lookin’ for this!  It’s my dancin’ clothes.  I used to go out to the disco clubs all the time.”  His face then turned to one of puzzlement as he held the clothes nearer to his frame, adding in, “Wonder if I could still fit in this…”

One of the Autobot’s eyes couldn’t help but twitch as a rather…disturbing thought came to mind.  His voice a mixture of panic and disgust, he shuttered, “Uh…no offense, man, but I think ma’ eyes’ve been burned ‘nough wit’ dat’ image alone.”

To that, Scratch let out a huge, belly laugh, “Aww, come on!  Did you really think I meant that?  I can’t even imagine fitting in my platform shoes, let alone this.”  Giving the jumpsuit one last glance, he then tossed it over the back of a nearby chair.

The saboteur shook his head and grinned; turning back to what he was doing and silently adding in a sigh of relief, knowing he averted an optic-searing catastrophe.  But he soon learned he wasn’t out of the woods yet, for no sooner did he glance away, did the store owner call from behind, “Hey, Jazz!  Guess who I am.”

Once again, the Autobot turned around; thanking Primus for the man’s early call (or was it a warning?).  Either way, his eyes met the sight of the elder musician sporting the biggest smirk-supporting a huge boom box on his shoulder.  The man then waved his hand and spoke, as if addressing a crowd, “Gentlemen…let’s broaden our minds!  Laurence?”

He then pressed the “play” button, and a rather-funky beat emerged from the speakers.  Not long after, the high pitched vocals of Prince sounded off, declaring he was a party man and for all to hail the new king in town.  For added effect, the musician rocked to the beat; puffing out his chest as if he were the king.  But despite enjoying the 80’s retro, Jazz, all the while, could only stand there and watch with slight confusion.

It wasn’t until a few minutes of boogying-down that Scratch finally killed the music; realizing the joke was going nowhere.  He barely hid his frustration as he sighed and smiled at his one man audience, “I take it you’ve never seen Batman before?”  The saboteur shook his head, to which the store owner hauled the out dated stereo off his shoulder and set it down, “Please tell me you at least know what a boom box is.”

“Of course I do”, the Autobot answered; happy to be on the same page again, “A buddy a’ mine still has one…he’s a real blast ta’ be wit’…”  As he spoke, he hauled a box full of CD’s over to another vacant spot, when just then, he took notice of a very small room.  How did he miss it? he wondered.  Perhaps it was due to the piles of items strewn about that the little space went unnoticed…or maybe because all that was in it was a chair, some old recording equipment, and a mic stand.  Whatever the reason, the musician couldn’t help but ask, “Say, what’s dis’ room for?”

Scratch dropped whatever he was doing and came to his side; wondering what had his friend so fascinated now.  Peeking into the enclosure, he explained, “Oh, that’s where I taught Kayla how to play guitar.”  He then smiled and tilted his head as he remembered, “She was so cute…lotta’ memories in that room.”

Jazz nodded in recognition, only to turn to his fellow musician, as he just thought of something, “Ya’ know, I’ve known ya’ guys fer’ a while now, but both of ya’ never told me how ya’ two met in da’ first place.  At da’ concert, didn’t ya’ say it was years ago?”

To that, the store owner nodded, “Yep…”  A far away look appeared as he added, “…but it still feels like yesterday…”

.

.

.

_Scratch was peacefully strumming away on his powder blue guitar; humming to the beat of his own creation.  Morning had dissolved to early afternoon, and the day was fairly uneventful.  So, to pass the time, he’d long since reclined back in his desk chair; laying on some good tunes until someone moseyed into his store.  And speak of the do-gooder, not long into his song, he distinctly heard the sound of the front door open and shut, causing him to pause in his melody to glance up._

_Two people, a man and a woman, had entered the establishment; both of whom looked to be in their late 20’s to early 30’s.  The man, who had short, brown hair and brown eyes, strode in first, with a hint of pride in his step.  But in true, gentleman fashion, he had a caring arm around the woman, who sported short, red hair…and who seemed to scope the place out with a quick sweep of her blue eyes.  Due to the shelves, the musician could only see them from the waist up; their ring hands kept hidden, but if their loving grip were any indication, basic instinct told him they were married._

_“Hey there!” he greeted; setting his guitar down in the process and gesturing to his wide collection of songs, “Welcome to my lair o’ music.  Anything special you’re lookin’ for?”_

_The woman addressed him with a half grin, “Oh, no thanks; just browsing.”_

_With a nod, the store owner was about to grab his guitar and resume playing, when all of a sudden, the couple made their way around the shelf, and he was met with an odd, but-adorable sight.  Turns out, what he thought was a duo, was actually a trio, for trailing right next to the two was a little girl.  Her short, red hair was tied up in pigtails, and she wore the cutiest, white sundress with an aqua blue band in the middle, and sandals of the same color.  If it weren’t for her small pair of sunglasses resting low on the bridge of her nose, he wouldn’t have noticed her pale, blue eyes looking around…_

_…but as she held the woman’s hand, he then spotted the tiny, white cane clutched in her other hand…_

_…awww…she was blind…_

_Well…that certainly didn’t give him permission to skimp on the manners, and darn it, she was just so cute.  With a warm smile, he steadily rose from his seat and leaned over his desk, “And just who’s this little missy?”_

_This time, it was the man who turned to him; blinking a few times before looking down at the girl in question, “Oh, this is my-“_

_But before he could finish, the little red head sought to make introductions herself.  Letting go of the woman’s hand, she took a few steps forward; following the stranger’s voice no doubt.  With a bright smile and hand outstretched, she replied politely, “Hi, I’m Kayla.”_

_His grin equally happy, Scratch leaned over the desk and gingerly took the offered hand for a gentle shake, “And I’m an old hippie.”  To that, they both shared a laugh._

_A moment later, the mother spoke; finishing what her husband started, “She’s my daughter.”_

_The store owner nodded in acknowledgement, before turning back to his new found friend, “And just how old are you, little princess?”_

_“Six”, she answered sweetly._

_The musician gasped; pretending to be surprised, “Wow…you’re gettin’ big.”  The statement made the girl smile even bigger._

_The couple, meanwhile, looked on at the exchange in a proud silence-impressed with the girl’s openness.  It was then the woman noticed a chair situated near Scratch’s desk, and an idea came to mind.  Slowly, so as not to startle her, she put both hands on Kayla’s shoulders and turned her so she’d face her.  As gently as she could muster, she said, “Kay-your dad and I are going to shop for a couple minutes.  Why don’t you wait in this chair over here?”_

_The girl gave a soft nod, “Okay…”_

_With nothing else said, her mother turned her around once more and began to guide her to the seat… …that was, until the father placed a hand on his wife’s shoulder; holding her back.  But despite the sudden stop, the girl continued onward-sliding from her mom’s grasp.  Her eyes widening, the woman turned to her husband with a worried look; her voice above barely a whisper, “Pete…”_

_But the man stayed firm; mumbling back in calm, reassurance, “Let her try on her own…”_

_With that, the couple merely looked on as their daughter slowly ventured forward; using her tiny cane to sweep the floor as she headed off in the direction her mom pushed her.  Thankfully, it wasn’t long before she came in contact with the chair; feeling around with much curiosity before finally sitting down.  All the woman could do was sigh in relief._

_As for Scratch, who bared witness to the whole scene in his own comfortable silence, he simply turned to the two with a smirk; shrugging, “Well, if ya’ need anything, give a shout.”_

_At those words, the parents walked away and commenced with the browsing; giving Kayla a quick glance every now and then.  For a while, all was quiet-save for the store owner, who whistled the seconds away and tapped a beat for good measure.  But soon, he cast a sidelong glance at the little girl, who remained in the chair as told…but in the way she playfully kicked her feet, it soon became apparent she was becoming rather bored.  Just her unseeing eyes were enough to say she wasn’t sad, but wasn’t happy either to be left waiting._

_Not liking the silence one bit, the musician decided to try his hand at a conversation.  As much as he hated to say it-best not to leave her alone in the dark.  So, with a yawn and a stretch, he dutifully picked up his guitar once again, then addressed her, “So…what’s your mommy and daddy do?”_

_It took a second for the red head to realize she was being spoken to, but quickly, she turned in his direction.  In an unsnippy, but still rather pointed fashion, she answered, “I don’t call em’ that; just mom and dad.  Dad’s gonna’ get a pro-a prm-pra-pri-“_

_“Promotion?” Scratch tried to aid her struggle._

_“Yeah”, she nodded, “Dad’s gonna’ get a promotion to a captain.  He fights bad guys n’ stuff, so ‘daddy’ sounds kinda’ not tough.”_

_From across the store, her father could be heard, chuckling.  The musician, himself, couldn’t hold back a smirk-intrigued by her kid logic.  As he tuned his guitar and settled back in his chair, he figured he better just play along, “Oh, I see…”_

_Seemingly satisfied that he understood her reasoning, the girl continued, “An’ my mom’s a nurse.  She helps save people.”_

_The store owner couldn’t help but notice the hint of pride in her voice…it’s a great feeling to be able to talk about one’s parents like that.  To which, he stated, rather frankly, “Sounds like your folks are superheroes.”_

_“I guess…” she said with a smile._

_Scratch then gave her another glance; eyebrow raised, “And what do you wanna’ be?”_

_“I dunno’…” she merely shrugged as she gave it some thought, “I dunno’ what I’m good at.”_

_The musician heard that one before from many a friend.  To that, he reassured, “Well, give it time…ya’ never know where you’ll find inspiration.”_

_It was then the aging hippie began to strum his guitar; producing a calming melody that floated throughout the store.  It was purely instrumental and simple, yet was light and cheery, causing him to smile softly.  Kayla, all the while, leaned forward a tad in her seat; her sightless eyes widening in both curiosity and wonder.  She was aware of an instrument being played, but question was-which one?  For a long while, she merely sat and listened to the comforting piece of music, but eventually, curiosity won over, and she finally asked, “What’s that sound?”_

_“My guitar”, he answered simply as he continued to play._

_Her voice didn’t betray her awe and amazement; its one thing to listen to music-it’s another to find someone who can make it.  “You can play?” she practically gasped._

_“Mm-hmm”, the store owner nodded, “My dad taught me.”_

_“What song is it?” she asked._

_“The one from my soul”, he answered simply.  He then paused a moment to gaze over at her once more, “It’s where all music comes from.”_

_The girl tilted her head in confusion, “How do ya’ do that?”_

_This time, Scratch had to give it some thought.  He’d answered without thinking-forgetting for a second just who he was talking to.  To him, it was simple, but how to explain this to a six year old?  He rubbed his chin as he contemplated the matter, before finally snapping his fingers as an idea struck._

_“Well”, he replied, “when I’m sad, I play like this.”  He then began to strum the instrument again; this time choosing a very somber piece.  Soft and slow, the tune had noticeably sent a much darker feel to whatever the sound reached, and the red head suddenly felt a tad chilly, despite it being the start of summer._

_The musician went on a little longer, before stopping to say, “And when I’m happy, I play like this.”  With a grin, he quickly reverted back to the cheery tune he was playing before, and the girl was nothing short of relieved…in fact, as the man continued to play, it wasn’t long before his audience member found herself humming along.  Bobbing her head in time to the beat, she even went so far as to sing a few scales of her own._

_To that, Scratch looked at her with both a smile and an eyebrow raised-it threw him a little to hear such a young child be able to hit the many octaves as such.  Pausing in his strumming once more, he pointed out, “That’s a very nice voice you have.”_

_Kayla couldn’t help but blush, “Thanks.  I take a chorus class at the new school I go to.”_

_The store owner just shook his head, “Wish I could sing like that.  A guitarist isn’t nearly complete without a good voice.”_

_It was then the girl fell silent; a far away look on her face as her smile faded slightly.  Her voice softer, she mumbled, “I wish I could play…”_

_Now more surprised than ever, the musician set his guitar down, before leaning in; eyes fixed on the red head.  Quite frankly, he stated, “Who says you can’t?”_

_Her eyes wide, she couldn’t find her voice as she suddenly fumbled with her cane, “Well, I…”_

_“Can’t see?” the man finished, “Now what makes you think you can’t play ‘cause you can’t see?  Haven’t ya’ heard of Ray Charles?”  The girl shook her head, although her body perked up a bit at his rather blunt statement.  He then continued with a shrug, “Well, point is-you can do anything if you set your mind to it.”_

_Kayla appeared to be deep in thought as she contemplated his words.  It was during the silence that Scratch looked at his guitar, then slowly scrutinized the little girl.  She was smart for her age-no two ways about it, and by the way she “corrected” the addressing of her parents, she had spunk too.  Most of all, she had a great singing voice, all of which was the perfect combination for…well…it sounded like she was looking for some direction…could it be done?  His own father taught him how to play when he was eight…and his last student was when he was 30.  He was 42 now…it was a while, but…aww, what the heck?  The little angel was so sweet, and he was due for some change anyway.  With a friendly grin, the musician leaned in and replied in an almost sing-song voice, “…if you want, I can teach you how to play.”_

_The red head’s face lit up in an instant; stunned at his offer to show her his craft, “Really?”_

_“Sure”, he nodded; getting excited himself.  But he quickly added, “With your folks permission of course.”_

_Perfect timing, for at that moment, Kayla’s parents strode up to his desk-cassette tapes in hand, ready for purchase.  With a thankful nod, the musician began to ring up the items, during which his new little friend couldn’t contain herself anymore.  Carefully, but quickly, she rose from the chair, and using his desk as a guide, she ran her hand across the wood-following the old piece of furniture until she literally bumped into her mother, who had, by then, gotten her soundtracks handed back to her.  Sporting the biggest smile, the red head tugged at the woman’s pant leg, “Mom!  Mom! Is that you?”_

_The lady in question immediately looked down to find that her daughter had somehow made her way over to her…and what was she in a tizzy about?  “Yes, Kay.  What do you want?” she answered._

_Her grin growing wider, the girl exclaimed, “I know what I wanna’ be!  I wanna’ make music like he can!”_

_To that, the couple could only look at each other and blink in astonishment-she wanted to what?  A long moment of silence went by, before her father finally started, “Well, um…”_

_“Can I?  Can I?  Please?” she almost cheered as she bounced up and down on her heels, “The man said he can teach me how!  I wanna’ do something cool too!  Please?”_

_The woman ran a hand through her hair; looking anything but peppy.  How could the red head spring something so unexpected on them at such short notice?  Did she seriously mean this?  “Well…” she stuttered, “I-I don’t know, I-“_

_“It really wouldn’t be any trouble, maim”, Scratch interjected, and the mother gazed up to find the store owner looking at her with a heart warming smile, “I haven’t gotten the opportunity to teach someone guitar in a long time.  And I think it’d be really-interesting for us both.”_

_The woman looked at the man for a moment, trying to judge if that grin of his was sincere…but he did offer his services himself.  “Well, um…” she began, then paused to turn to her equally-surprised husband, “What do you think?”_

_There was a long pause as the father contemplated the matter.  His eyes darting between the musician and his wife, he finally spoke in a low voice-almost to himself, “Well…most of the time, the guy’s not looking at the strings, so…I guess it could work…”  He then gazed at his daughter; keeping his tone firm, “It’s your decision, Kay…but don’t think this is a spur of the moment.  Learning how to play an instrument takes a lot of hard work and practice…are you sure you wanna’ do this?”_

_The girl nodded in excitement, “Uh-huh!  I’ll work really hard like you tell me to!  I promise!”  She added in a mock salute for emphasis._

_Her dad then turned to Scratch, in need of one more convincing argument, “Um…what would this all cost?”_

_The store owner just shook his head and smirked, “We can work somethin’ out.  The more I think about it, the more excited I get.  I’ve never seen anyone so pumped to make music before.”  Glancing over at the red head, he added, “I can tell her heart’s in the right place.”_

_So that was it then; a man excited to teach and a girl excited to learn…how could anyone say no to that?  And thinking about it, maybe it was time his daughter took up a hobby; if anything, to help increase her motor skills.  After one final pause, the father let out a sigh of defeat, “I guess we can consider it.”_

_“Sounds great”, the musician smiled, to which, Kayla let out a cheer._

_Her mother gave an equally-happy grin; pleased that the girl finally took an interest to heart.  Turning back to the man who’d given the offer in the first place, she replied, “Thank you very much for this.  We’ll let you know in a day or two, Mr…”  She then tilted her head, “Oh, we never got your name.”_

_To that, the store owner smirked, “Just call me, Scratch.”_

.

.

.

“And as they say, the rest is history”, the musician shrugged, giving Jazz a sideways glance as he finished up his story.  His eyes became distant as he added, “I really wish you could’ve been there…that girl was so cute, and so head strong.  Two years later, she played her first song for her folks…I don’t care who you are-that’s one determined kid, I’ll tell you that.”

Ever knowing of her other accomplishments with the Autobots, the saboteur could only chuckle, “No argument der’, man.”

A moment went by, during which the two music connoisseurs remained quiet; lost in their own thoughts.  That was, until Scratch broke the silence with a huff and looked to the door, “Well, speaking of whom, Kayla should be coming out any minute now.”  He then looked to his friend with a grin, “Thanks for helpin’ me back here.”

The disguised ‘Bot returned his gratitude with a nod of the head, “No problem.”  He then gave the back room one last glance over.  Seemingly satisfied with the tag team work they accomplished, the saboteur rose from the box that doubled as his story time seat, and began to make a break for the door…

…that was…until the elder musician uttered from behind, “And, um-by the way; tell the other Autobots I said ‘thanks’ for comin’ to the show.”

Jazz was almost to the door, when the word “Autobots” hit his ears…and his body instantly froze in place.  He and Kayla never agreed to tell Scratch of who and what he really was…how did he know?!  And more importantly, did he truly mean that in a nice way, or was he being sarcastic?  For once in a lifetime, his mind drew a blank, due in part to his utter shock at this sudden announcement.  All he could do was slowly turn around, to see the store owner with his arms crossed-sporting both a mischievous and knowing smile.  Although the grin calmed him a tad, the ‘Bot, never the less, starred wide-eyed at him; his mouth opening, but no words coming forth.

Thankfully, his friend decided to speak first; holding up a hand, “Before you ask; no-Kay didn’t tell me.  I figured it out on my own.”  Humming a laugh, he added, “I mean, come on; you guys are on the news all the time-like I don’t know when an Autobot’s in my own parking lot once a week?”

The saboteur tried to laugh along with him, but came up short…he prayed the guy didn’t take the secret the wrong way.  Blinking a few times, he finally managed out, “W-we were gonna’ tell ya’, but-“

“-but you thought I’d think you were trying to steal her away?  Right?” Scratch finished.  Jazz let his eyes shifting to the floor answer for him, to which the elder musician let loose a deep sigh, “Look, I’m 53 years old.  This is my shop-I’m gonna’ be here forever.  Kayla’s almost 18-she’s gotta’ long life ahead of her, and I know she’s already found the greatest friends anyone could ask for…I’m not about to keep her from that.”

The Autobot had perked his head up at that point; surprised at his flattering opinion of his comrades, despite not having met them before.  The store owner then looked him square in the eye as he continued, “I’ve known her for years; I know she’ll still come and visit…and I know she’s gone through some hard times not too long ago.”  A pause, and then, “I’ll always be her friend, but she needs a brother more than an old hippie right now.”  He then smiled and motioned to the door, “Go to her…”

Jazz regarded the man for a long moment; trying to take in everything he just heard.  It was then he remembered what Kayla said to him a while back-something about her mentor “not being born yesterday”…and it only made him internally laugh at how right she was.  Just one more reason why he liked humans so much-their lives were so short compared to a Cybertronian…and yet so much wisdom could be found within just one.  Here was a man who was a hippie and proud of it, yet was open to change, even if it wasn’t in his parameters of normalcy…and if a giant robot could help his protégé’, well then that was fine with him.

With these thoughts in mind, Jazz could only give the man a spark-felt grin, “Thanks, man…”

To that, Scratch smiled and nodded, “Just tryin’ to keep the music alive.”  He then raised an eyebrow, “Now do I get to see your robot form or what?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: I didn't know if I would ever do another story with these characters, but in case I didn't, I knew I had to at least include the origin of how Kayla and Scratch met, and how and why she took up guitar.
> 
> And yes; Scratch knows the secret...you didn't REALLY think he was THAT naive, did you?


	17. A Hard Day's Night

“Whoever created those fraggin’ seekers”, Jazz thought, “should be ejected into the nearest available entrance to the Pit.”

With that in mind, the Porsche practically dragged himself into his quarters; unceremoniously plopping down at his desk to begin filling out the required mission review report.  Although, he speculated whether answering the data pad would even matter; considering his fellow, battle-scarred revelers around, all of whom endured a similar day to his.

Now, don’t get him wrong, the mission was a success, and no way did anyone say being a soldier would be easy…but for Primus’ sake, couldn’t they catch a break at least once?  In the beginning, even Prowl-Mr. Tactics himself-had made the plan plain and clear: go in, free the scientists the Decepticons were holding hostage, and get out.

Simple enough, right?  Insert dummy laugh here.

With only Rumble and Frenzy on lookout, getting into the laboratory was easy enough-getting out was the problem…especially when one had five scientists to protect in the middle of a shoot out.  Thankfully, the tactician had come up with another “simple” plan-distract the ‘Cons while one Autobot snuck the hostages out of the fight and out of harm’s way.  But unfortunately, two lessons would be learned the hard way.

One-just because you look like a car, doesn’t mean you’re totally incognito.

And two-never use the flashy, sports car as your get away van!

The saboteur never expected his speed to be both a blessing and a curse, but he couldn’t contradict his friend’s logic-he was the fastest ‘Bot present; therefore, he’d have to transport the scientists to safety.  But even when spying is your specialty, think before racing off into the desert as a noticeable Porsche with precious cargo in the seats.

And let’s not forget those three, aforementioned Pit-spawns, better known as Starscream, Thundercracker, and Skywarp, who took devious pleasure in making Jazz their shooting gallery.  The saboteur would’ve fought back, had it not been for the mission of guaranteeing the scientists’ protection.  (And of course, five humans inside him created some…um…transforming problems.)  So, regrettably, the Autobot was forced to put the pedal to the metal and zig-zag across the hot, desert landscape, with three jets ensuring him no amount of peace.

Only when the city came on the horizon and only when the group finally found sanctuary in an underground parking lot did the chase finally end…but not until the Porsche had been run ragged before hand.

Needless to say, Jazz was tired…very tired…very achingly-unbelievably-extremely-tired…

All he had to do was fill out the report, and then beddy-bye…until…

“Heard Jet Screamer and his dummy patrol had it out for ya’,” called a familiar voice.

The saboteur sighed in relief; not having to think twice about who it was, and merely looked down to see Kayla standing a few feet away from his desk-a clear indicator he was on the verge of collapse, for he didn’t even hear her enter his quarters.  Never the less, he smiled warmly; happy to come home to his best friend…if she was visiting, his day was going to get better for sure.  After a moment of regarding her statement, he finally spat, “Let’s jus’ say he’s outta’ ma’ will-I mean it dis’ time.”

The teenager chuckled at his dry sarcasm, before replying, “Just came to see if you were okay.”

It was during the short exchange that the Autobot scrutinized the girl a tad closer.  Her sunglasses were gone for once, revealing a pair of rather blood shot, baggy eyes.  She was also leaning forward a bit; resting on her cane slightly, as if her body were ready to collapse on its own weight.  With her looking no less worse for wear, it was enough for him to turn in his chair and lean in-elbows on his knees for support.   On a more concerned note, he shrugged, “I’ll live…not sure I kin’ say da’ same fer’ you.  Ya’ look exhausted.”

His suspicions proved correct, for the red head gave a tired nod; rubbing her unseeing, but never the less, sore eyes, “I didn’t sleep too well last night…”  A short yawn later, she mumbled, “And all the runnin’ around didn’t help at all.”

His interest perked, the saboteur tilted his head, “Care ta’ share?”

Kayla shifted on her feet and sighed, before explaining, “That fight you were in drove Teletraan-One and Red Alert up the wall…so you can imagine what that was like.”  The Porsche rolled his optics at her choice of words, knowing how panicky the Security Director became in such situations.  But to be trapped with that mech all afternoon?  And he thought he had a rough day…but before he could comment, the girl ticked off on her fingers, “Calls from the government-jammed communications-status reports-injury reports…”  She then shifted again, slouching, “I’ve run the 100 yard dash up the hallways more than I can count.”

To that, Jazz shook his head; no wonder she could barely stand up…poor girl, having to deal with just as big a mess as he did…a long, trying day for both of them, he presumed.  But luckily, he knew the cure for that.  “Well…” he started; taking the accursed data pad between two fingers.  Giving it one, final glance, he tossed it aside-choosing to save the stupid report for later.  With a push on the knees, he slowly rose from his chair; brushing himself off as he sighed, “I’d say we both could use a nap, den’.”

For once, the teen couldn’t agree more; letting loose a huff, “I’d say you’re right.”  With a lazy stretch, she turned on her heel; beginning to take her leave, “I won’t keep you then.”

The Autobot stared at the musician for a long moment; watching in silence as she slowly trotted towards the door-her cane barely sweeping the floor.  But soon, his pity for her exhausted state grew more and more, and before he could think twice, he found himself crouching down-gently scooping her into his massive arms.  She twitched at the sudden grab, but her only response was a soft, “Wha-?”

Jazz instantly went into brother mode; cradling her with a caring hand and smiling innocently, “Where ya’ goin’?”

Despite her blindness, Kayla’s eyes darted around; confusion written all over her face, “Um…to rest?”  She then motioned towards the door, “The human quarters-“

“-are on ‘da other side’ve da’ Ark”, he finished in a low, soothing tone, “If you’re tired too, why go all dat’ way when ya’ kin’ chill ‘ere?”

The red head just shrugged; finding no way to argue with that logic…and too tired to argue, anyway.  With nothing else said, the saboteur trudged over to the other end of his quarters-best friend in arms.  In the back corner, near his stereo system, sat a small, red-orange couch (small by Autobot standards).  Granted, the soft, furniture piece wasn’t always there, but when the rec. room succumb to a few changes, and certain pieces had to be removed, the ‘Bot offered to give the couch a new home.

It was upon this three-piece cushion that the Porsche set the girl down; giving her a glance before side-stepping over to a closet on the far left.  Tired, but still cheerful, the mech whistled a tune in his wake; producing two items upon which he hurled over his shoulder to land next to his charge.  Her curiosity aroused, the teen quickly retracted her cane and stored it away, before reaching out to examine the mysterious objects.  Both of them were soft-that was certain, although the one item seemed to suck in her hand the more she pushed; getting a taste of cotton between her fingers.  However, the other object was a lot thinner, but most definitely fleece in material.

There was a short pause, and then realization dawned, to which all she could reply was, “A pillow and blanket?”

“Yep”, the ‘Bot nodded.

Confusion mounting, the girl raised an eyebrow, “I thought you guys didn’t sleep with this stuff?”

“We don’t”, he answered simply as he walked over, “But ya’ know me; always wonderin’ ‘bout Earth culture n’ stuff.  Jus’ wanted ta’ try it out fer’ myself.”

The teen merely shook her head; that part, she understood…but how the heck did he acquire bed clothes that size?  The inner debate lasted only a second, and she decided not to ask…maybe certain mysteries were best left unsolved…

But as she was contemplating the matter, Jazz had picked her up once more in order to sit down in the middle cushion.  Holding her in one hand, he used his free hand to fluff the gigantic pillow of which took up almost half the couch.  Then, just as carefully as he lifted her, he set the girl back down upon laying down himself; setting her next to him to ensure she’d receive adequate pillow space too.  Finally, came the blanket, with which he covered himself up to his waist, making the red head get covered all the way.  “Der’, now”, he replied with a satisfied smirk, “Ain’t dis’cozy?”

Well…Kayla had to admit, the enormous bed of sorts was pretty comfy.  Her exhaustion beginning to seep in more, she smiled slightly as she snuggled deeper into the giant pillow.  Feeling as though her body was being nestled in a cloud, she wearily answered, “Mm-hmm…thanks…”

The saboteur had to be careful where he layed his arm, but finding a comfortable position, he sighed, “Don’t worry ‘bout it…”  His head sinking deeper into the material, his sentence was slowly cut off by a loud, deep yawn; ending with a mumble, “…we both need it…”

From then on, all was quiet; save for the hum of machinery, as the musical duo layed there-content to lose themselves in their own thoughts as they entered a relaxing bliss.  For a long time, there was silence…

…until the mech’s gentle humming began to fill the air.  The girl was surprised for only a second, but soon fell to listening to the lulling tune.  What she heard was utterly beautiful, for this wasn’t a song she’d ever heard before…no…this was a cybertronian melody-something she’d never heard before.   What had caused her surprise was his singing…his real singing…his real voice of which he’d been created with…what Cybertron really sounded like…and for the first time, she was hearing it all.  At first, it sounded computer-like; like the mixers used to make techno music…and yet, it wasn’t…mechanical, but not…almost as if a human and machine was singing in tandem with.  His real voice was nothing short of wonderful; adding beeps, clicks, and whirrs every so often-rising and falling in pitches humans couldn’t dream of imitating.  And although she couldn’t understand the words, the general message still got through-that she was cared for and protected…music is deemed a universal language for a reason…

To that, the teen couldn’t help but harken back to that day in the med bay, only now on the receiving end.  Getting sleepier by the second, she smirked and mumbled, “Your singing’s really nice…” By that time, the Porsche’s optics were powered down and closed behind the visor; his body still, “Thanks, but dis’ is jus’ hummin’…”

The red head sighed; her unseeing eyes sliding shut, “It’s still singing…”

The ‘Bot smiled, “Gotta’ always have music playin’…can’t even recharge without it.”  He proceeded to explain; his voice gradually softening as he began to drift off, “When I was a sparklin’, ma’ creator used ta’ ssssing ta’ me ‘fore I could play ma’ own tunes.”  A pause, and then, “When der’s nothin’ on da’ radio; gotta’ make ma’ own lullaby…”

The girl’s eyes remained closed; her voice barely showing her interest as she asked in a tired slur, “Sssso…you ssssing yourself to sssleep?”

It took a moment for him to answer, “Sssssometimes…”  With one final, tiny shift, he yawned, “…ya’ know…ssself hypnosis…”

This time, there was no reply.

.

.

.

The moment he was released from Ratchet’s med bay, Optimus Prime made a slow, but steady beeline for his quarters.  After a whole day of shooting, taking shots, chasing, and fighting, all he wanted was to just plop down his aching joints and recharge.  He only hoped everyone would do the same-it’d been a long day for them all.

Speaking of which, upon turning the bend to the hall of commanders, it was then he came by the doors to Jazz’s quarters.  Harkening back to the battle, he couldn’t help but be proud of his third in command for his success in protecting the hostages and getting them to safety.  The leader only wished his alternate mode were faster so he could’ve gone in the Porsche’s place-an 18 wheeler could take more of a beating than a sports car.  That said, Prime decided to pay his friend a quick visit first; if anything, to see if he was truly okay.

Like any gentlemech, Optimus knocked first-no answer.  That was strange…the saboteur clearly told him earlier he was heading straight for his quarters…why wasn’t he answering?  If he’d powered down for the night, his door would’ve been locked…but-seeing as how it wasn’t, the leader reluctantly let himself in…he’d just poke around for a second, then go.

Stepping forward, the doors opened with a soft swish, and Prime slowly padded into the room; optics darting around, on the prowl for his friend.  Thankfully, the lights were all on at full intensity, so he was in here-question was, where?  Recharge birth-no.  Stereo-no.  Desk-no.

But then, suddenly, the leader’s optics came to rest on the small couch that’d been moved not too long ago…and he distinctly heard breathing coming from it-bingo.

“Oh, Jazz-there you are”, Optimus replied as he walked around the piece of furniture, “I just wanted to see if you were alri-“  But as he rounded the bend, his words were instantly cut short, as he came to witness the most optic-widening sight imaginable…

Jazz and Kayla were cuddled together; sleeping peacefully under the biggest blanket, and snuggled into the world’s largest pillow.  With the ‘Bot’s arm draped over the edge of the couch, the two wore the softest smiles-giving off gentle snores as they breathed in tranquility.

For the longest moment, Optimus could only stand there-taking in the sight.  But before he knew what he was doing, he slowly reached out and carefully prodded the Porsche on the shoulder, whispering, “Um…Jazz?”

The saboteur stirred slightly; smirking as he mumbled, almost inaudible, “…play dat’ song…one more time…”  He then went still again and sighed-showing no sign of leaving his dream (one that involved music, no doubt).

Not long after, Kayla let out a yawn, stretched, then rolled over-unintentionally wrapping herself in the blanket more.

With a shake of the head, Prime smiled under his battle mask; not wanting to disturb their peace.  It was all the motivation he needed to carefully sneak out of the room, but not before dimming the lights (for Jazz’s sake, anyway).  However, before he left for good, the leader glanced back once more to make sure they were still asleep…they deserved the rest.  With a sigh, he muttered, “Pleasant recharge, you two…”

Looks like the girl was sleeping over again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Personally, this was my FAVORITE chapter in the whole book. I always wanted to do just an all out fluff story between Kayla and Jazz.


	18. Rockaby

_We sign our cards and letters BFF_

_You’ve got a million ways to make me laugh_

_You’re lookin’ out for me, you’ve got my back_

_So good to have you around_

_You know the secrets I could never tell_

_And when I’m quiet, you break through my shell_

_Don’t feel the need to do a rebel yell_

_‘Cause you keep my feet on the ground_

_You’re a true friend-you’re here ‘till the end_

_You pull me aside when somethin’ ain’t right_

_Talk with me now and into the night_

_‘Till it’s alright again-you’re a true friend_

_You don’t get angry when I change the plans_

_Somehow you’re never out of second chances_

_Won’t say I told you when I’m wrong again_

_I’m so lucky I found…_

_A true friend-you’re here ‘till the end_

_You pull me aside when somethin’ ain’t right_

_Talk with me now and into the night_

_‘Till it’s alright again-you’re a true friend_

_True friends will go to the ends of the Earth_

_‘Till they find the things you need_

_Friends hang on through the ups and the downs_

_‘Cause they’ve got someone to believe in_

_You’re a true friend-you’re here ‘till the end_

_You pull me aside when somethin’ ain’t right_

_Talk with me now and into the night_

_‘Till it’s alright again-you’re a true friend_

 

With the last timbers of the song floating off into the night sky, Jazz was quick to make his commendations, “I’ve said it ‘fore, an’ I’ll say it again; ‘nother smash hit by da’ musical Matthews.”

Kayla merely shook her head; setting her guitar next to where she was sitting in the grass, “Come on-shouldn’t you know by now that it’s hard for me to take compliments?  I don’t like to show off.”

“You’re not showin’ off; ya’ got a talent-use it”, the saboteur grinned as he looked down at her, “Now shut up an’ gimme’ a hug.”

The teen could only laugh as her enormous friend gathered her into his hands; gently lifting her to optic level so she could wrap her arms around his neck.  Supporting her in one hand, he patted her back with the other-the two of them remaining that way a moment.  He then deposited her on his shoulder, to which she quickly sat down and leaned against his helmet slightly for balance.

Thank God for small mercies, for the day had proved to be nothing but peaceful, leaving the Autobots to enjoy some downtime.  For the musical duo, they chose to spend their solace cruising around town, looking for some excitement.  And of course, their long drive wasn’t without music (and in doing so, probably woke every dog within a five mile radius).  It wasn’t until dusk that they finally arrived back at the Ark, but the Porsche only saw it as another opportunity to relax.  So, here they were; two friends seated on a grassy overlook, with a mech stargazing, and a girl playing the best songs she knew, courtesy of her prized instrument.

But as of now, human and robot were content to sit with their mouths shut and ears (and audios) open-listening to the crickets play their nightly song.  It wasn’t until a while later that the saboteur finally made a comment; speaking at a low volume, “Gotta’ hand it ta’ dem’ lil’ critters; they sure know how ta’ lay down a relaxin’ beat.”

The red head chuckled as she shifted in her seat, “Yeah; all we need is one that plays a fiddle and we’ll be all set.”

To that, the ‘Bot turned to her; puzzled, “What?”

“James and the Giant Peach”, was her only answer, as if that explained everything, “Read it-it’s a good book.”

Jazz nodded in recognition; putting yet another book on his list of things to read concerning Earth culture.  He then turned back to the sky-watching the natural, twinkling lights.  Kayla, meanwhile, edged a bit closer to his head; uttering in a low tone after a long pause, “I played that song for a reason, ya’ know…”

The saboteur merely smiled; swiveling his head once more, “Really?  Now, do I read ya’ mind, or do ya’ tell me?”

The teen laughed at the joke, but spoke matter of factly as she began to trace circles on his shoulder plate, “I don’t think the lyrics made it any clearer…you’re a really great friend to me…”

The Porsche blushed, “Aww, come on, now…”

“I’m serious”, she began-harkening back to the months that had passed, “Before I met you, I didn’t have too many friends who could accept me like that…”  She quickly added in, “I mean, sure, there’s Scratch…but-he was my teacher, first and foremost…I mean someone who I could just hang out with.”  The red head then giggled, “I always daydreamed of meeting you guys…I never imagined I’d wind up working with you…or, at least trying…”

The Autobot raised a non-existent brow, “Tryin’?”  Picking her up once more, he proceeded to lay her in his arms; cradling her much like the times before, “Aww, come on…ya’ kiddin’ me?  Look at all da’ times ya’ helped Ratch in da’ med bay…or all da’ work ya’ did wit’ Prowl on Teletraan-One…or all da’ beautiful music ya’ play.”  He then tilted his head, “You’re da’ one who’s helped us…we’re not jus’ friends; we’re family…an’ ya’ know dat’.”

The girl just smiled-had to agree with that…and this was one family she wouldn’t trade for anything.  As if to emphasize the point, she caringly leaned into his chest plate; nestling herself further into his arms.  With her head beginning to grow heavy from a long day, she sighed, “I take it you’re lookin’ at the stars?”

That he was, and he didn’t hesitate to voice his opinion, “Yep…an’ someday, you’re gonna’ be one.” The teen grinned at his semi cliché line-perhaps he’d watched too many soap operas.  But, she didn’t mind noting its sweetness none the less…even if her sentence was interrupted by a yawn, “Thanks for the…encouragement.”  Her voice became softer as she began to nod off-another yawn cutting her off, “You’re a…good friend…”

The saboteur just shook his head and smiled, as he knew she was falling asleep.  Adding a gentle rock, he soothed, “You too…don’t know what I’d do without ya’.”

Her unseeing eyes now shut, she mumbled, “Me neither…”  The girl then curled up and nuzzled into his chest plate more-being slowly lulled by the rhythmic hum of his spark.

The ‘Bot smirked as he settled into a comfortable position; deciding to let her nap until it was time to take her home.  His voice soft, he lulled, “ ‘Night, Kayla.”

The teen shifted one more time and sighed…then let out a murmur-almost inaudible…

“…love you…”

The mech stared for a long beat…but then let his grin grow wider as he whispered…

“…you too…”

And with that, he planted a gentle kiss on her forehead.

She had suffered loss twice, on two different levels, but had gained even more-a talent, friends, and a new family.

And being nestled in the arms of her best friend, who she loved so much, a soft smile appeared as his soothing humming had her peacefully asleep and dreaming contently.

Because Kayla knew, whatever happened-be it bad or good-she was still the luckiest girl in the world.

The End.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Nothing too special here; just a quick wrap up to end the story (or storIES I should say). But stay tuned, because there's ONE more story with our musician friend to wrap up this now-trilogy.
> 
> But thank you all so much for taking the time to read this and take this trip down memory lane with me. I think this shows how much my writing's improved over time. Be sure to check out my more recent writings, as well as my webcomic, "Jamie Jupiter"! Message me for details! Later!


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